


Willowsbend

by miss_grey



Series: Willowsbend [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coffee Shops, Discrimination, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Officer!Dean, Slow Build, Small Towns, Witchcraft, loads of UST, witch!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:31:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the town of Willowsbend, the Supernatural police unit went by the name of Dean Winchester.  Unfortunately for Dean, the Supernatural population of Willowsbend was zero.  So Dean spent the majority of his time calming paranoid housewives when their pipes rattled and chasing off wildlife that over-zealous citizens were sure must be shifters.  It’s a tiring job, full of false-starts and hysterical old ladies.  It’s a rare day that Dean has to deal with anything truly Supernatural.  That’s about to change, and it all begins with the arrival of one Castiel Novak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's probably not mine. The things I own: Willowsbend, some original characters, and the plot.
> 
> I have a thing for coffee shop AUs and a special place in my heart for Witch!Cas. So one day I thought to myself: why not combine them? Throw in Officer!Dean and some small town charm, and this is what happened. I'm writing this story simply because it makes me happy and I hope that it makes you happy too. 
> 
> Warning: This story contains blatant disregard for reality. This is my world: I do what I want to. Also: Unbeta'd. The mistakes are mine. Sorry!
> 
> P.S.: Most of this fic is unabashed fluff, but there are parts that may be triggering to some people. I promise I will post specific warnings in the AN before any chapter that might have disturbing content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome!!! :)

* * *

 

 

  **PROLOGUE**

 

 

 

  
**_“Welcome to Willowsbend, sleepy little town nestled between Grey’s Forest and the dark, deep Lawrence River.  It is famous for its prize-winning apples, historic architecture, and good, honest people.  Here you can mosey your way through the town and stop in to locally owned artisan shops and fine eating establishments.  Or you can enjoy the beautiful countryside—take a walk through our apple orchards or enjoy a picnic near our historic covered bridge.  Come and stay, we’re the friendliest people on earth!”_**                                  **Population: 2,489.**  

 

* * *

 

 

 

            The world had been in a state of uproar since the Supernatural community made itself openly known—some responded with fear, others hatred, or confusion.  A small group offered welcoming arms.  The majority of the population responded with caution.  It had been two years since the government had passed the Supernatural Anti-Discrimination Act, making it illegal to discriminate against Supernaturals.  The law mandated that state and local governments create new bureaus to deal with Supernatural affairs.  Each police force was required to have its own Supernatural unit.

 

            In the town of Willowsbend, the Supernatural unit went by the name of Dean Winchester.  Born and raised in Willowsbend, Dean made it his mission to protect the citizens of his town.  Despite his reservations about Supernaturals, Dean Winchester was sworn to uphold the law, and that meant equal protection for human and Supernatural citizens alike.  He took his job very seriously.  Unfortunately for Dean, the Supernatural population of Willowsbend was zero.  So Dean spent the majority of his time calming paranoid housewives when their pipes rattled and chasing off wildlife that over-zealous citizens were sure must be shifters.  It’s a tiring job, full of false-starts and hysterical old ladies.  It’s a rare day that Dean has to deal with anything truly Supernatural.  That’s about to change, and it all begins with the arrival of one Castiel Novak.


	2. Welcome to Willowsbend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Willowsbend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discrimination and use of cliché.

 

 

            Castiel had just needed to get away.  He was the youngest in a family of nosy, overbearing witches who expected Castiel to join the family business of selling occult goods, settle down, and be happy with it.  He loved his family, he supposed, but never quite fit in.  He was socially awkward, far too blunt, and had no desire to sell magic supplies.  He’d endured it for years, but after he’d had his falling out with his parents, he’d decided on a change.  He’d closed his eyes, stabbed a map with his finger, and decided that Willowsbend sounded like as good a place as any.  So he’d decided to chase his dream.  He’d packed all his belongings and his cat, Nox, emptied his savings account, and took the plunge. 

            The process of moving to Willowsbend and purchasing a property in the center of the town had been easier than he’d imagined.  Petitioning for the various licenses he needed was quick.  Before he really knew it, he was opening _Delecto_ , his dream café.

            Castiel was pleasantly surprised by the warm reception his café was given by the locals.  He supposed that it was natural for a new business to attract attention in a town as small as this, but what he hadn’t expected was for the curious locals to enjoy his café and decide to stick around.  He had read about the friendliness of the Willowsbend folk on their town hall website, but he hadn’t really believed it.  It was nice to know that there really were friendly, accepting people in the world and Castiel counted himself fortunate enough to have moved to a town where, hopefully someday, he could feel like he belonged.

            _Delecto_ had only been open for three days when Castiel realized that he had acquired a following of regulars, a group of three women, late-middle aged, who sat in the corner every afternoon chatting happily and buying cup after cup of his coffee.  On the third day, Castiel watched as one of the women sighed and closed her eyes after taking a deep drink of the fresh cup of coffee, murmuring “It tastes like magic,” under her breath.  He allowed himself a little smile and turned away to conceal his blush.  He missed the other two women giving their companion a meaningful look before looking down into their own cups.

 

            Bright and early on the fourth day, Castiel made his way downstairs from his attached apartment to open the store, whistling cheerily to himself at the prospect of another fortunate day.  He opened the register, sorting change and humming.  He replaced filters and started the daily brew while he danced behind the counter.  With a jaunt in his step, he moved to the two large front windows to open the blinds and he sighed.  **_WITCH_** was scrawled across the windows in purple spray paint.   He knew it had been too good to be true. 

 

* * *

 

            Dean’s day started weird.  His alarm didn’t go off so he had to rush into a quick shower (which was cold) and then frantically dress (he couldn’t find his left shoe for TEN MINUTES).  On his way out the door, he forgot his toast and had to dash back inside for it.  He grabbed it, turned around, and smacked his head on the side of the cabinet.  He figured he probably should have just called in sick that day.

            When he swung into the office, Becky Rosen, the department secretary, shouted “Dean, you have a case!” her eyes wide and excited. 

            “Oh yeah?  What is it this time?”

            “WITCH.” She said, like she was blocking the word out in the air.  She grinned at him.

            “Uh, you’re gonna have to elaborate a bit there, Becky.  Witch what?”

            She sighed.  “You take all the drama out of life Dean.  This is exciting!  You know the new coffee shop that opened?  _Delecto_?”

            “I’ve heard of it.  Sounded a bit frilly for my taste.  Why?”

            “The owner, Castiel Novak, called us this morning.  Someone spray painted the word “witch” across his storefront sometime in the middle of the night.  He found it when he opened the store this morning.”

            Dean shook his head, “People in this town aren’t very creative.”  Then, “Alright.  I’ll go deal with it.”  And with that, he was out the door and headed down Oak Street toward the coffee shop.

 

            Dean arrived to find a gaggle of women whispering across the street and a lone figure leaning against the door jamb, framed between the front windows of the shop, both of which were defaced with glaring purple spray paint.  “Castiel Novak?”  He called.  The man lifted his gaze to meet Dean’s and Dean felt his heart stutter oddly.  Huh.  Castiel was not at all what Dean had been expecting.  He’d pictured a balding, middle-aged dandy.  He didn’t know why, but he guessed that was his idea of who owned fancy coffee shops.  Castiel was none of those things.  He was tall and lean, wore faded jeans and a black Henley, had dark messy hair, a five o’ clock shadow, and clear blue eyes that focused on Dean.  “Yes, that’s me.  Officer…?”  Wow, the voice was a surprise too—deep and a bit rough—and didn’t seem to fit with the body.

            Dean cleared his throat and extended his hand.  “Dean Winchester.”  He scanned the words on the windows again before saying “Alright, let’s start from the beginning.  What happened?”

            “I came down from my apartment this morning--I live upstairs--and when I opened the blinds, I noticed the paint.  Then I called the police station.”

            “You live above the store, ok.  Did you hear anything last night?”

            “No.”

            “Alright.  Was anyone acting suspicious in the last couple days?”

            “No.  Not that I noticed.”

            “How long ago did you move here?”

            “Um…I moved into the apartment just under three weeks ago.  I had purchased the property about a month and a half ago, but I was staying in a motel outside of town while I prepared it.”

            “Huh.  Haven’t seen you around before.”

            “Well, no.  I’m afraid I’m an introvert at heart.  I keep to myself most of the time.”

            “Ok, well.  I don’t want you to get the wrong impression here, but you’re new and sometimes people can be suspicious, especially with the state of things.  I’ll conduct an investigation to find out who did this, and then I will go ahead and inform these folks through the proper channels that you aren’t a witch, and that should sort it.”

            Castiel stared at Dean for a moment, blinked once and then said “What?”

            Dean quickly reviewed what he’d said—nothing strange—and then said more slowly “I’ll try to find out who did this and let everyone know you’re not a witch so that you can get back to business.”

            “Yes, I am.”

            “Huh?”  Dean knew he must have a stupid look on his face by the way Castiel sighed and said patiently: “I’m a witch.  Dean, um…Officer Winchester, I didn’t call to file a libel complaint, I called to file a discrimination case and to deal with the defacement of my property.”

            “Oh.  Well, uh… that changes things a bit.”

            Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean.  “The Anti-Discrimination Act is a federal law, Officer Winchester.  Your reaction has me wondering if perhaps there isn’t a larger problem here.  Is discrimination against Supernaturals common in Willowsbend?”

            Dean cleared his throat.  “No, I uh, I didn’t mean anything like that.  You’re actually our first.  Our first Supernatural resident, that is.  I didn’t mean to insinuate that my dealings with you would change, just uh, that I’m used to dealing with false alarms most of the time.  I wasn’t expecting….”

            “You weren’t expecting me to be a witch.”

            “No.”

            “I see.”  There was a tense silence wherein Castiel folded his arms over his chest and just stared at Dean.  Dean had to quickly rearrange his preconceptions of this case.  He was man enough to admit that he was shocked.  Castiel was the first witch he’d met and he wasn’t what Dean had expected.  He’d grown up on fairy tales and ghost stories like most kids and despite his education and experience, part of his mind still held onto the image of a wrinkly old lady with warts.  Not….this.

            “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.  I didn’t mean to, I was just surprised.”

            “I understand Dean.”

            “Good.  Now, have you told anyone in town that you’re a witch?”

            “Not overtly, no.”

            “Alright.  Well, have you said or done anything recently that might have hinted that you’re a witch?”

            Castiel sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair.  “I don’t know.  I wasn’t intentionally trying to hide the fact that I’m a witch, so I could have said or done anything.  I didn’t realize that it would be a problem here.  Everyone seemed so nice.”

            “Okay, so.  If it’s alright with you, I think you should open your shop like you normally would that way I can talk with some of your customers and observe everyone for a while.”

            “That sounds reasonable.”  And with that, Castiel turned away from Dean and pushed the door to the shop open, flipping the sign on the door on his way.  Dean noticed that it was a hand-painted sign that said ‘Welcome’ rather than ‘Open.’  He liked that.

 

            Dean settled himself in a corner and simply watched for a while.  Within ten minutes of the shop having opened, there was a line of customers waiting at the counter.  Most people simply purchased their coffees and then left for work.  Some stayed and found seats at the tables spread throughout the front room.  No one seemed overly suspicious or paranoid.  In fact, most of the customers seemed rather comfortable in Castiel’s presence. 

            Despite the events of the morning, Castiel flashed a genuine-looking smile at all of his customers and made coffees with easy efficiency.  He moved gracefully behind the counter, pulling shots of espresso, adding pumps of syrups, steaming milk, serving up a town’s daily dose of caffeine.  Alright, enough observing—time to interview some of these customers.

            The first person Dean chose was Andy Gallagher who was sucking down a double-espresso-something-with-way-too-much-syrup and typing away at his laptop with headphones on.  Dean sat down at his table, pulled his headphones off with a grin and said “Heya Andy, mind if I ask a few questions?”

            Andy looked annoyed about being bothered but shut his laptop case and grinned sarcastically.  “Sure thing, Dean.  What’s up?”

            “You come here often?”

            “Is this an investigation or are you hitting on me?”

            “Shut up Andy.  How often do you come here?”

            “Well, shop’s only been open for four days, but I’ve been here every one, so I guess you could say I’m a die-hard.  Why?”

            “Have you noticed anything strange while you’re here?”

            “You mean aside from the word “witch” scrawled across the front of the shop?  Nope.”

            “Smart ass.  I’m trying to figure out who was behind it, so mind helping instead of being a pain?  Thanks.”  Andy laughed and nodded congenially.  “Okay, fine.  So, what is your impression of Castiel?”

            “I like him well enough.  Guy’s kind of quiet, but he’s always polite and smiles a lot.  Plus he makes a wicked cup of joe.”  Andy saluted with his mug.  “Is he in trouble?”

            Dean sighed. “I don’t know yet.  The whole thing is kind of weird.”

            “Cuz he’s a witch or….?”

            Dean sucked in a breath “You mean you knew?  How did you find out?”

            Andy just stared at him for a moment.  “Well, the words on the front of the shop were kind of an indicator, ya know?”

            “And how do you feel about that?”

            “Honestly?”  Dean nodded eagerly.  “Couldn’t care less.  None of my business what the guy does with his personal life, right?”

            “Right.  Sure.  Thanks, Andy.”

 

            After Andy, there was Karen.  Then Luke.  Jake and Megan.  Despite Dean’s determination, he found his eyes drifting back to Castiel without his permission.  The man showed no sign of resentment over the recent violation.  In fact, he was currently humming and swaying behind the counter as he washed some cups in the sink.  His back was turned so Dean allowed himself to stare for a moment.  There was something strange about Castiel Novak—and Dean wasn’t sure whether it was just down to him being a witch.  Sure, that in itself was a surprise he still didn’t know how to deal with, but there was something else….  He had no idea what it was, so he decided to move on.  He was just finishing his interview with Melissa Stonewall—was about to start questioning the Willowsbend Women’s Club (Margie McSween, Cindy Carrow, and Elsie Ford)when Castiel caught his attention by slowly making his way around the counter, and then coming to stand uncomfortably close.  “Officer Winchester…Dean, can I get you a cup of coffee or perhaps some other refreshment?  It’s been two hours.”

            Dean smiled genuinely back at him.  “Sure, thanks, man.  Coffee would be great.”

            Castiel flashed a quick smile and hurried back behind the counter.  Dean followed after slowly and watched as Castiel set to making the drink.  Dean leaned against the counter and watched as Castiel’s long, graceful fingers pulled a mug from the hanger above the counter and poured a dark, rich-smelling brew up to the top.  When he slid the mug across the counter, their fingers brushed just for a second—a strange, tingly second, and Dean wondered if that was a witch thing.  “Thanks man.”  He said, lifting the mug to his lips.  He was startled out of his movement when the group of women in the corner, the Women’s Club, all stood and shouted “No!!!”

            Both Dean and Castiel froze, shocked by the sudden outburst.  The air in the shop was suddenly very heavy and it only added to Dean’s confusion.  Then Cindy Carrow was pushed to the front of the group by her friends.  She took a deep breath and said “Don’t…don’t drink the coffee.”  Dean raised his eyebrow at her.  She gave a shifty look toward Castiel before taking another step forward and lowering her voice, saying “That’s how he bewitches you.  It’s in the coffee.” 

Dean jerked like he’d been slapped and looked around the room; some of the customers had lowered their eyes, others looked at him bravely and nodded.  Dean turned to look at Castiel, who appeared just as shocked as Dean felt.  Dean squinted and pointed out the cup in Cindy’s hand, asking what she had in it.  She blushed and murmured that it was coffee.  Dean stared, incredulous.  “You just said the coffee was bewitched!”  She huffed and pointed at Castiel: “It is, but I’m under his thrall now.  I can’t get enough of it!”  At this Dean just burst out laughing.  Castiel continued to look supremely confused.  “So you’re telling me that the coffee here is so good that you figured it must be witchcraft?”  Cindy and several others nodded.  Dean glanced back over his shoulder at Castiel and said “Either that’s the best compliment I’ve ever heard, or you have a lot of explaining to do.”

 

* * *

 

            Within five minutes, they had hustled everyone out of the coffee shop, Castiel apologizing profusely for the abrupt treatment.  When the Women’s Club merely moved across the street and continued to stare, Dean frowned and pulled the blinds on the front windows shut.  Castiel was still taken aback by what his customers had insinuated.  Of all the things….  With the windows now shut, Dean turned back to Castiel, measuring.  Castiel took a step toward him, raising his hands placatingly, murmuring “Dean, I promise you that I haven’t done anything to the coffee.  I wouldn’t….”  Castiel felt truly uncertain for the first time that day, unable to tell what Dean was thinking as he continued to appraise him.

            Dean wanted to believe Castiel.  The truth was, Dean was pretty sure he kind of liked the man, regardless of the fact that he was a witch, but he couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of the investigation.  This was one of the strangest cases that Dean had ever worked, and he had to inspect every claim, especially when the welfare of the town was on the line if he was wrong.  Determined not to allow big blue eyes to sway him, he asked if Castiel would allow him to inspect the premises, or whether he should get a warrant.  Castiel assured him a warrant wasn’t necessary, and granted Dean permission to search the shop and his apartment. 

            Castiel waited patiently at one of the tables in the coffee shop while Dean conducted a thorough investigation of the front and back rooms of the shop.  He was actually surprised not to find anything related to magic in the space.  He said as much to Castiel and the man was quick to note that any magical paraphernalia that he had was stored safely in his personal living quarters.  Dean nodded and slowly made his way up the back stairs to check for himself.

            He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find, but it wasn’t this.  The apartment was small, but not crowded.  When Dean took his first step inside the door, he had to stop and take a calming breath.  The air felt strange, tingly, almost like he had just stepped through an electro-magnetic field.  It smelled strange too—Dean wanted to freak out about it, but he couldn’t seem to do it.  He just felt so…calm.  He made his way through the small living room, which was decorated in earth tones, took a quick peek into the bathroom (where nothing was out of the ordinary) into the kitchen (which was only stocked with food—no witchy things) and finally ended up in Castiel’s bedroom.  The room felt airy and light, decorated in creams and pale blues.  Dean felt like he could breathe easier in this space for some reason (though he really didn’t want to give THAT too much thought.)  At the foot of the bed stood a large traveler’s trunk made of a light colored wood and bound in iron.  Huh.  So much for the folk tale that iron repelled witches.  He opened it delicately and found what he was looking for—rows of jars and bottles arranged neatly, labeled in a precise, flowing scrawl.  Books stacked in a corner.  Various tools.  Bundles of herbs.  Amulets.  Dean glanced over everything for a moment, but didn’t sort through anything.  He knew he was intruding on something extremely personal here, and so far he’d found nothing to incriminate Castiel.  He didn’t want to violate this man’s privacy any more than he already had.  So Dean carefully closed the trunk and made his way back down to the shop, where Castiel was still sitting patiently, his hands folded in front of him on the table.

            “Well, nothing looks out of the ordinary.  Thanks for being patient.”

            Castiel turned his large, mournful eyes upon Dean and Dean felt like he’d just had the air punched out of him.  He nodded minutely.

            Dean cleared his throat.  “Hey Cas, quick question, if you don’t mind?”

            Castiel cocked his head but said “Of course, Dean.”

            “I was always told that iron could repel witches and bind magic.”

            “Yes, that is true…. Was that a question?”

            “Well, I just noticed that your, uh, supplies are in a trunk that’s bound in iron.  Seems kinda contradictory to me.”

            Castiel studied Dean for a moment, eyes narrowing and then he huffed a breath.  “No, not contradictory.  I house my supplies in that trunk specifically because it is bound in iron.  The iron keeps the magic from leaking out.  That way if magic is used in my home, I can be assured that it has been done intentionally by myself and not inadvertently through contact with my tools.”

            “Oh.”  Dean was dumbfounded.  What was he supposed to say to that?  Dean came to sit at the table across from Castiel.  The coffee mug sat between them, a symbol either of Castiel’s good intentions or his guilt.  Dean reached out and drew it closer to himself, wrapping his hands around it, though the warmth had long fled.  Dean raised his eyes to Castiel’s and held them.  “Cas, have you used any kind of magic on the coffee?”

            Castiel cocked his head, eyes holding a trace of confusion once again, but he cleared his throat and whispered “No.”

            Dean reached into a coat pocket and pulled out powdered Angelica root.  It would release a greenish vapor if it came in contact with magic.  From the look on Castiel’s face, he knew that too.  Dean twisted the top off the vial and tipped a portion of the powder into the coffee without hesitation.  Nothing happened.  Dean waited a moment.  Still nothing.  “Huh.”

            Castiel murmured “I told you there was no magic involved.”

            “Yeah, you did.”  Dean cleared his throat, put the vial back in his pocket.  “Hey Cas, would you do me a favor?”  Castiel gave a slight nod.  “Would you make me another cup of coffee?  I have one last test I’d like to perform.”

            Castiel’s eyes seemed to shutter but he said “Of course, officer.” And rose from his seat to prepare the drink.  Dean watched him as he moved behind the counter, calm, but with an air of sadness hanging over him now.  Well….

            Castiel set the coffee down in front of Dean, a wary look on his face as he waited for the next test.  Dean lifted the cup to his lips and took a drink.  He couldn’t hold back the moan of pleasure that rumbled up his throat and he glanced up at Castiel, just in time to see his eyebrows shoot up in shock.  Dean smirked at him.  “Man, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but those old ladies have a point.”  Castiel twisted his fingers in his shirt, suddenly nervous, and croaked “What, uh, what do you mean?”

            “I mean that this coffee tastes too good to be true.”  Castiel blushed and averted his eyes.  Dean shoved the chair back and stood, clapping Castiel on the shoulder.  “I can’t believe the Women’s Club outed you because you happen to make amazing coffee.”  Dean laughed.  “Today has been a weird day.”

            Castiel finally allowed his own small smile to grace his lips.  “It has at that.”

            “Well, Cas, you and I have more we need to discuss to figure out who vandalized your property, but I’ll handle the townsfolk.  Let them know that yes, you are a witch and that you brew some amazing coffee, magic-free.  How’s that sound?”

            “You keep calling me that.  Why?”

            “Calling you…. What?”

            “Cas.”

“Oh.  Uh....  Guess I do, don’t I?  Does it bother you?”

            Castiel allowed himself a tiny grin.  “No. Not particularly.”

            “Good.”  Dean gave Castiel his best grin and clapped once, saying “Well, I know it must have been a long, trying day for you.  I’m gonna get out of your hair.  I’ll head to the station and let the chief know what’s up.  I’ll be back tomorrow morning but regardless, I’ll let you know as soon as I know something, alright?”

            “Yes, thank you, Officer Winchester.”

            “Dean.”

            Castiel grinned. “Dean.”

            “See you later, Cas.”

 

* * *

 

            At the station, Dean was practically pounced on by Becky, who was rabid for details of the case.  Dean humored her and gave her the short version, but she wasn’t satisfied by it.  She began asking questions about Castiel—what did he look like, how did he act, most importantly, was he single?  Dean ignored most of her questions and went to his office to start filling out paperwork.  About an hour later, he hunted down Bobby Singer, Chief of the Willowsbend Police Force to inform him of his progress in the investigation.

            “Hey Bobby, get this….” 

            After a lengthy description of his day, Bobby leveled Dean with an unimpressed look and said “So?  What do you expect me to do about it?”

            “Uh, nothing, really.  Just…isn’t it weird?”

            Bobby shrugged.  “All sorts of things are weird, son.  It’s our business to deal with weird.  What are you gonna do about it?”

            “I’m thinking in this case, I could print an announcement in the paper concerning Castiel’s innocence and asking whoever was responsible to turn themselves in, or else I’ll continue with the investigation.”

            “I think that’s a pretty solid idea, but I gotta ask.  What’s the big deal here?  When it boils down to it, truth is this is just a graffiti case.  It happens.”

            Dean sighed, running a hand through his short hair.  “I know, Bobby.  But thing is, he’s the first Supernatural resident of Willowsbend and it doesn’t look good for any of us that he’s being discriminated against, ya know?  I know it’s just the kind of thing that would drive Victor and Jo up the wall as far as PR goes.  And to be honest, Cas seems like a decent guy.”

            “Cas.  Uh huh.”  Bobby rolled his eyes.  “Whatever.  Do what you think is right, Winchester.”

            Dean grinned.  “Thanks, Bobby.”

 

* * *

 

            The next morning when Castiel opened the shop, he was surprised to find Dean waiting for him at the door with an easy grin.  “Mornin’, Cas.”

            “Good morning, Dean.”  He stepped back.  “Please, come in.”  Castiel caught the light scent of Dean’s soap and clean skin as the man passed by him.  “Are you here to discuss the investigation?”

            “Among other things.  What I’d really like, though, is a cup of that coffee.”  He flashed Castiel a charming grin and Castiel felt a strange fluttering in his belly.  Castiel was pretty sure that Dean’s smile should be considered a weapon.

            “Of course, Dean.”  While Castiel filled a mug for Dean, his mind was sifting through everything he had learned about this man.  He was a police officer and while he had investigated Castiel for suspected abuse of magic, he hadn’t been harsh or uncaring about it.  Obviously he no longer suspected Castiel of wrong doing if he was here ordering a coffee the very next day.  What was more, after Dean had left him the day before, Castiel had gone up to his apartment to conduct an investigation of his own.  He was able to trace Dean’s aural residue through his apartment and was surprised when he realized that Dean had moved through quickly and hadn’t disturbed his things.  Even at the trunk that housed Castiel’s magical supplies, Dean’s presence had been minimal, and when Castiel opened the trunk he realized that Dean hadn’t even touched his things.  He found that level of respect very interesting, especially considering Dean was an officer who was conducting an investigation.

            When Castiel turned, Dean was leaning against the counter, watching him.  Castiel had to fight to hold down a blush.  What the hell?  He pushed the drink across the counter and Dean took it with a grateful smile.  He took a deep drink and another sinful moan rumbled up from the back of his throat.  “Thanks, Cas.  Really hit the spot.”

            Castiel smiled politely.  “So what did you want to discuss with me, Dean?”

            “Ah, well, I had an idea but I wanted to run it by you before I went any further with it.”

            “I appreciate that.”

            “Yeah, figured you would.  So, this is what I was thinking: we could put an editorial in the local paper about you and the shop, letting people know up front who you are, that you are a witch, and that you make some awesome coffee.  Then we mention the graffiti and ask that whoever is responsible please come forward.”

            Castiel was silent for a moment, watching Dean closely.  Dean grinned back at him, but Castiel could tell that he was nervous.  “And how do you think the locals will take this news?”

            “Before I would have said they’d freak out, but after talking with your customers yesterday, I think we should give them the benefit of the doubt.  Most of them didn’t seem to be too bothered by the fact that you’re a witch.  And you know, most people in this town are probably curious as hell about you.”

            “Why?”

            “Cas, this is a small town.  We don’t get a lot of action here, and like I told you before, you’re our first Supernatural resident.”

            “You don’t think they’ll try to run me out of town?” 

            Dean chuckled.  “That’s not gonna happen.”  And Castiel had to admit, he was intrigued when Dean placed his hand reassuringly over his gun when he made that statement.  Castiel found that he believed Dean.  “Whaddaya say, Cas?”

            “Alright.  Let’s try it.”

 

* * *

 

            Thanks to a favor that Chuck owed Dean, the editorial was published the next morning.  Dean made his way to _Delecto_ before Cas was scheduled to open the shop, but when he arrived he found that there was already a crowd of locals waiting excitedly outside.  Dean liked to think the best of his friends and neighbors, but he was a realist, also, and he knew that people could do terrible things, especially if they were scared.  So Dean made his presence known and stationed himself against the wall by the door where he waited patiently for Cas to open the door.

            Dean saw the shock on Castiel’s face when he opened the blinds.  He briefly met Dean’s eyes—Dean nodded reassuringly at him—and Castiel opened the door for the crowd.  The people of Willowsbend made Dean proud that day.  The filed into the shop, wanting to try the amazing coffee and eager to see the dwelling of a witch.  Some, Dean heard, merely wanted a glimpse of Castiel as he worked, to ease their own curiosity and worry.  He definitely didn’t fit the stereotype—Dean could vouch for that.   But many people also wanted to engage him in conversation and Dean watched from outside as Castiel smiled honestly at the locals.  Stared as Castiel threw his head back and laughed at some joke.  Watched his long, graceful fingers work.  Dean was so absorbed that he almost didn’t notice people approaching.  He pried his gaze from the coffee-shop window and met the serious, determined faces of Margie McSween, Cindy Carrow, and Elsie Ford.  “Ladies.”  Dean murmured.

            It was Elsie who took a deep breath then said “Officer, it was us who did it.  Who wrote “witch” on his windows.”

            Dean supposed he should have been shocked—either by the crime, or by the confession—but he wasn’t surprised by either.  No serious, self-respecting vandal used purple spray-paint, for God’s sake.  And Dean had known these women his whole life—they might be nosy and a bit uppity, but they weren’t bad people, not really.  Not when it counted.  “Thank you for coming forward, Ms. Ford.  Ladies.”  He tipped his head to them.  “You understand that I must report this, and that I will need to inform Mr. Novak?”

            “We do.  But before you arrest us, Dean, we would like to apologize to Castiel, if that is possible.”

            Dean fought to keep the grin off his face.  “I think that might be possible.  Let’s go.”  They pushed their way into the coffee shop and when the bell above the door tinkled, Castiel raised his eyes and met Dean’s, just for a moment, before he scanned each of the women before looking back to Dean curiously.  When they reached the counter, Dean said “Cas, these ladies have something they’d like to say to you.”

            “Alright.”

            Elsie stepped forward bravely and began “We wanted to apologize to you, Castiel, before Dean arrested us.  We are the ones who defaced your shop.  We… we were being ignorant, and we wanted to let you know that we’re sorry.  You make great coffee that we’ve all enjoyed, and regardless of whether you’re a witch or not, you’ve been nothing but kind to us.  We enjoy your shop and feel that it has a great atmosphere.  We know that what we did was mean-spirited and harmful, but part of us did believe that you had a hold on us.  Of course, after reading the article in the paper, it all makes so much more sense now.  But we could have learned those things for ourselves if we had just asked, instead of taking things into our own hands in the worst way possible.  I, for one, am ashamed of my actions and hope that you accept my apology.”

            Castiel stared at each woman in turn for a long moment before murmuring “I appreciate your honesty.  Thank you for coming forward and owning your actions.  I feel relieved to have this incident behind me.”

            Elsie nodded and looked over her shoulder at Dean.  “Alright, officer, we’re ready to go to jail now.”

            Dean gave a sharp nod and reached for his handcuffs, but Castiel had made his way around the counter and now laid a hand on Dean’s arm, stilling his movement.  Dean felt that strange tingling sensation again and wondered why he didn’t shake Cas’s hand off.  “Wait, Dean.  Please.”

            “What is it, Cas?”

            “I do not wish to press charges against them.”  He met Dean’s eyes, and again, Dean was amazed at how big and blue they were.  How honest.  Would he ever get over it?  Castiel turned back to the three middle-aged women.  “I do not wish to press charges against you.  All I ask is that you remove the graffiti from my windows and touch up the paint on the façade of the building.”

            Margie gasped “Why would you do that?”

            Cas met her eyes and answered “Because I do not believe that you ladies meant me any real harm.  I believe that you regret your actions.  I am willing to forgive you.”  The three women gazed upon Cas like he was an angel and Dean had to admit that he was also impressed by the act of understanding and kindness.

            “What do you say, ladies?”  Dean asked.

            Elsie glanced at each of her friends before saying “Castiel, you have a deal.  Thank you for giving us the chance to fix our mistake.”  She stepped awkwardly from one foot to another before announcing “No time like the present, right Margie?  Cindy?  Let’s get to work, girls.”  Dean and Castiel watched the women file out of the shop and after they’d gone, Dean turned to Cas and said “You didn’t have to do that, you know.  You were well within your rights to have them arrested.”

            Castiel met Dean’s eyes and he murmured, with a grin.  “I understand, Dean.  But my intention in moving to Willowsbend was not to ostracize myself or make the locals uncomfortable.  I’m honestly just looking for a place where I can someday say I belong.”

            Dean gave Castiel a giant grin and didn’t even try to control his impulses.  He threw an arm around Castiel’s shoulders and laughed, saying “You know, Cas, I think you’re on the right path there, man.”  Castiel shifted to pull away when Dean said “Hey Cas!”  Castiel cocked his head and Dean said, with a giant cheesy grin “Welcome to Willowsbend, man.”

 

* * *

 

            When Dean pushed his way into _Delecto_ the next morning for a hot cup of coffee, he announced his presence with “Mornin’, Cas.”  Castiel looked up, blue eyes smiling. “Good morning, Dean.”


	3. The Witch of Willowsbend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story contains excessive snark.

The bell above the door tinkled and Dean strode into the coffee shop, humming “Ramble On” under his breath, pausing to throw a grin at the counter and say “Mornin’ Cas!”  He stumbled just inside the door however, squinting at the counter suspiciously.  “You’re not Cas.”

            Andy looked back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, unimpressed.  “No shit.”

            “What are you doing here?”

            “Working.”

            Dean huffed.  “Yeah, I can see that, smart ass.  Since when?”

            “Since Castiel hired me yesterday.”

            “Huh.  He never mentioned he was looking to hire.”

            “So what, you guys share all your secrets now or what?”  Andy snorted and returned to the magazine he’d been leafing through when Dean so rudely interrupted him.  Dean frowned at him.  “And didn’t it ever occur to you that the guy might want a day off?  He’s been running this place by himself since it opened, and I don’t know if you remember or not, but it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing for him.”

            Dean stomped up to the counter, aiming a glare at Andy’s bowed head.  “Right now I’m just wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to hire you.  He _does_ know you’re a wise-guy, pain in the ass right?”

            Andy snorted.  “Pretty sure he does, actually.  Look, you can cool your jets, Winchester.  I didn’t even apply for the job.  Castiel asked me if I wanted to pick up some shifts since I’m here all the time anyway.  Promised me free coffee.  That’s all I needed to hear.”

            “Awesome.  Well, in that case, how ‘bout you hop to and get me a regular, huh?”

            Andy rolled his eyes.  “Who’s the dick now?”  But he busied himself with fetching Dean’s coffee.  Dean had to hide his smirk when Andy pushed the coffee and a lid across the counter at him.

            “So do you know what Cas is up to today?”  Dean asked after he’d taken a sip from the steaming cup.  Heaven.  Seriously.

            Andy leered at him over the counter, not bothering to hide his evil grin.  “No idea, Dean.  _I’m_ not the one with a giant man-crush on Castiel and therefore do not stalk him like a freak.”  Andy took a sip from his own cup, grin widening as Dean’s eyes narrowed.  “That would be you.”

            Dean scowled.  “Andy.  You do remember that I’m a police officer, right?  And that I have a gun?”

            Andy shrugged.  “Sure do.  However, I also know that Castiel has this entire building warded against violence.  So.” 

            Dean gaped.  “Really?  He can do that?”

            Andy shrugged again, bowing his head back over his magazine.  “Guy says he can.  Who am I to argue?”

            “Huh.”  And with that, Dean ruffled Andy’s hair, just to piss him off, then headed out of the shop.

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean had barely made it back to the relative safety of his own office when the door was pushed open roughly by Bobby, who grunted that he needed Dean in his office.  Now.  Dean sighed but followed Bobby to his office, surprised to find Jo and Victor Henriksen, the Mayor, already waiting for them.  “Hey Dean.”  Jo said with a smile as Dean settled himself in a chair around the conference table.  “Jo.”  He nodded.  “Victor.”

            Henriksen nodded back cordially.  “Winchester.  Bobby says you can help us out.”

            Dean smiled tightly and shot Bobby a look.  Bobby shrugged and took his own seat.  “Sure Victor.  What with?”

            “Castiel Novak.”

            Dean had to fight to keep his face blank.  “What about him?”

            “After the little stunt in the paper, news has spread that Willowsbend now has its first Supernatural resident.  We have an image we have to maintain here, so we want to be sure we have all our bases covered.  We need to know more about this witch.  And Bobby says that you’re familiar with Novak.  So.  Tell us what you know about him.”

            Dean felt his shoulders relax fractionally.  “Well, he owns the new coffee shop, _Delecto_ , which, by the way, if you haven’t been over there, the coffee is out of this world.  Seriously.”  Dean smirked, remembering how the Women’s Club had thought it was so good that it must be witchcraft.  “He um… he lives in the apartment above the shop.  Have either of you met him yet?”  Both Victor and Jo shook their heads, looks of solemn apprehension on their faces.  Dean sighed.  “Okay.  He’s 26.  About two inches shorter than me, lean.  He’s got blue eyes and black hair.”

            “His personality?”  Jo asked, jotting down notes in her ever-present planner.

            “He’s a bit shy, I think.  Kind of quiet.  But he’s nice.  Always polite.”

            “Hmmm…are you sure he’s not the anti-social type?”

            Dean snorted.  “He opened a coffee shop, guys.  You don’t serve people of your own free will if you’re anti-social.  Anyway, Cas is a nice guy.”

            “Cas?”  Jo raised her eyebrow with interest.

            “Yeah.  Short for Castiel.  You know.  Nickname.  Like Jo is short for _Joanna._ ” Dean said with mock sweetness.

            Victor frowned and Bobby sighed.  “Get your back down, boy.  It was a simple question.”

            Dean smirked and Jo continued to glare.  Victor looked incredulous.  “Are you _friends_ with Novak?”

            Dean shrugged nonchalantly.  “Yeah, sort of, I guess.  I mean, I grab coffee from his shop every morning and we chat.  He’s a nice guy, like I said.”

            Victor resumed his composed air.  “So you don’t find him to be a threat?”

            Dean snorted.  “No.  During the investigation, I conducted interviews with several of his customers and they all had nothing but good things to say about him.  And when the Women’s Club confessed to having graffitied his shop, he didn’t even want to press charges.”

            “Alright.  And what about the witchcraft?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Honestly, I’ve never seen him do any.  When I investigated his apartment, he had paraphernalia for it, but it was tucked away in his room.  No evidence of magic anywhere else in the apartment or the shop.  He hasn’t mentioned anything either.  Actually, until this morning, I hadn’t heard anything since the investigation.”

            “What happened this morning?”  Whenever Dean had to speak to Victor for an extended period of time, he never could decide whether he admired Victor’s ability to keep a straight face and remain calm or whether it pissed him off.

            “Supposedly Castiel has his building warded against violence.  Andy told me.”

            “Andy?”  Jo snorted.  “How the hell would he know?”

            “Cas hired him yesterday, apparently.  He was working when I went in for my coffee this morning.”

            “Oh God,” Jo snickered, rolling her eyes.  “Didn’t anyone warn him that Andy is a pain in the ass?”

            Dean grinned back.  “If he isn’t aware of it yet, he’s probably immune.  Andy has been haunting that place since the day it opened.  And Cas promised him free coffee, I guess.  So.”

            Jo hmmmd quietly to herself and Victor sighed, glancing at her for a moment.  Dean didn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips.  Then Victor refocused on Dean.  “So how well do you really know him, Winchester?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Not very, Victor.  Like I said, we have a friendly chat when I pick up my coffee but it’s not like we’re BFFs or anything.  However, I’m the kind of guy who trusts his gut.  In fact, I’m paid to do it.  And my gut is telling me that I don’t have to worry about Castiel Novak.  Keep an eye out?  Sure.  But worry?  No.  He said he was just looking for a place where he could settle down and belong and I believe him.”

            Finally Victor nodded, gave a short wave of his hand, and Dean was dismissed.

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean stopped by the Roadhouse for dinner that night.  He hadn’t been particularly busy that day, but it had still felt like a rough shift.  He was annoyed at Bobby for making Dean sound like the Source For All Info Castiel and annoyed at Jo and Victor for asking a million questions about the guy that they could’ve gotten answered if they’d bothered to stop by the shop and actually meet Cas.  On top of that, Becky had hovered all day, droning on and on about this new book series she was reading and chattering at him about something called “fanfiction.”  Dean shuddered at the memory.  She’d also pestered him about Sam, asking how he was doing at college and wanting to know when he would be home again.  All it had served to do was remind Dean how much he missed his brother.

            The sound of pool balls clattering and raucous laughter made Dean grin as he pushed through the door of the Roadhouse and took a seat at the bar.  Oh yeah.  What he needed was a burger, a beer, and a distraction.  He got it in the form of Ellen Harvelle who appeared before him, thunked a beer down in front of him and then glared, hands on her hips.  Dean hunched his shoulders but shot her his most charming grin.  “Hey Ellen.”

            “Don’t you ‘hey’ me, boy.  Where the hell have you been?  I haven’t seen you in here in almost two weeks.”

            Dean tried to shrink down into his seat.  “Sorry, Ellen.  Been busy.”

            “Too busy to eat?”  Dean winced at the whiplash tone.  “Or you just been eating elsewhere?”

            _Oh, God,_ Dean thought.

            “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time over at that new coffee shop.”

            “Come on Ellen, not you too.  Give me a break, would ya?”  Dean rubbed his face with the palms of his hands and took a long swig of his beer.  “I’ve been getting shit about it all day.”

            “Well, you gotta admit, Dean, it’s strange.  Strange enough that you’ve caught people’s attention.  You’ve been coming into my bar almost every day since you were a teenager and suddenly you’re not?  You’re hanging out at a fancy coffee shop owned by _a witch_ instead.  Something’s up.”

            “Nothing’s up.  Could I please just get a burger?”

            Ellen glared for another full minute, neither of them willing to look away, before she huffed and said “Fine.  But we’re not done with this conversation.”  And stormed away.

            “Great.”  Dean murmured, chugging the rest of the bottle.  His burger and fries came out shortly after and Dean tucked in hungrily, not sparing anyone else a glance.  It was juicy and delicious, as always, and it went pretty far in soothing his crappy mood.  Ellen even had the good graces to wait before his fries were gone before she appeared in front of him again, thankfully with another beer, and arched her eyebrow imperiously at him.  “What do you want me to say, Ellen?  The guy makes awesome coffee.”

            “We brew coffee here.”

            “His is better,” Dean held up his hands defensively before Ellen could bite his head off.  “Before you murder me, it’s true.  And I don’t feel bad saying it, since I know you brew yours from Maxwell House.”

            Ellen grumbled under her breath.  “That’s not the point.  We miss ya, kid.”

            “In that case, I’m sorry.  I have been pretty busy, though.  This whole thing with Cas has thrown the town into an uproar and I’ve been trying to deal with it.”

            “Cas?”

            “Castiel Novak.”

            Ellen’s eyes went flat.  “The witch.”

            Dean sighed and ran a hand through his already messy hair.  “Yes, Ellen, the witch.  Named Castiel.  Who also happens to be a pretty nice guy.”

            “You called him Cas.”

            “Yeah, so?”

            “Jo says you’re friends with him.”

            Dean knew he shouldn’t be surprised, but still…. “When did she tell you this?”

            “This afternoon.  She said that you were defending him to Victor and that you got all testy about it then, too.  So, spill.”

            “There’s nothing _to_ spill.  I don’t understand why everyone’s making such a big deal about this.”

            “Because he’s a witch, Dean.  Or did you just decide to forget that fact?”

            “No, sure didn’t.  No one’s allowed me to forget it.  I know he’s a witch, Ellen.  He told me so himself.  He also happens to be a nice guy.  Who makes great coffee.  Who I have friendly conversation with in the morning.  When I pick up said coffee.”

            “You were defending him.”

            Dean snorted.  “Defending people is what I do for a living Ellen.  Have you forgotten _that_?”

            Ellen pursed her lips. 

            “The guy hasn’t done anything wrong.  In fact, he’s already been the victim of harassment and discrimination since he moved here.  Now, in my book, that makes him the innocent one.  I gotta say, I thought the people of Willowsbend, _my_ people, would be more understanding than that.”

            Ellen was quiet for a while after that and she wandered away, wiping the bar down as she went.  Dean cast his eyes around the bar, taking in the atmosphere.  It was pretty slow, Tuesday nights usually were, but there were still plenty of people relaxing in booths, shooting pool, having a drink. 

 

Some time later, Ellen sat a slice of apple pie down in front of Dean and with a straight face, said “So tell me about him.  Castiel.”

            “He’s a nice guy, like I said.  He’s 26, kind of quiet, but he’s always polite and his customers seem to like him.”  Dean snorted.  “He hired Andy to help run the shop.”

            Ellen rolled her eyes.  “Oh Lord, that idiot?  What’d he do that for?”

            Dean laughed.  “I have no idea.  But at least now the guy gets a day off every so often.”

            Ellen smiled softly.  “Look, I’m sorry. I know I was harsh.  You know how I feel about Supernaturals… in general.  But if you think he’s a good person, then I’ll try to hold my tongue.  And if you are becoming friendly with him, then… well, that’s a good thing too, I guess.  You don’t have enough friends.”

            Dean grinned back easily.  “Thanks, Ellen.”


	4. Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you are enjoying the story so far. Any comments letting me know what you think or suggestions would be awesome. I have the whole outline for this fic done, and am working on writing the chapters. I will try to update as I can. :)

“Are you really a witch?”  Castiel turned and peered at the red-headed, freckled child whose head poked over the counter.  His eyes were big and blue and curious.  He had a smudge of dirt on his forehead.

            Cas cleared his throat.  “Yes.”  He eyed the boy for signs of fear or disgust.  Nothing.  The child cocked his head slightly.

            “Can you show me some magic?”

            “No.”

            The boy sighed, his shoulders heaving with the effort.  “Okay.”  He said, then extended a little fist across the counter and dropped a crumpled dollar and some coins in front of Castiel.  “Can I get a chocolate milk?”

            Castiel scanned the shop before focusing on the boy once more.  “How old are you?”

            “I’m eight.”

            “Where are your parents?”

            “My mom is at work.  Don’t have a dad.”

            Castiel tried not to grimace.  “Where should you be?”  The boy shrugged.  “Well, what’s your name?”

            “Evan Neustadt.”

            Castiel took only a moment to run the information through his mind again before he nodded decisively and said “Alright, Evan.  Go sit down and I’ll bring your chocolate milk out in a minute, okay?”

            Evan grinned and made his way over to the corner table near the window, folding his hands in front of himself politely and began to swing his legs back and forth.  Castiel looked to his other patrons for a clue as to what he should do, but they’d all ignored the interaction.  Heaving his own sigh, Castiel pulled his cell from his pocket and made his way to the back room.  He called the number he had saved and waited patiently.  The line clicked and a perky voice announced “Willowsbend Police Department.”

            “Yes, this is Castiel Novak.  May I please speak to Officer Winchester?”

            “Sure thing.  Hold.”

            A second later, the line clicked again and a deep, smooth voice answered “Winchester here.”

            Castiel felt his anxiety ease minutely.  “Dean, it’s Castiel.”

            Castiel could hear the grin in the voice when it said “Hey Cas.  What’s up?”

            Cas peeked back into the shop briefly to make sure the boy was still there before he said “A child just came into my shop.  He is alone and I am worried.  What should I do?”

            “Does this child have a name?”

            “He said his name is Evan Neustadt.”

            Dean sighed heavily over the line and Castiel furrowed his brows.  “Is he alright?”

            Castiel frowned.  “Yes, as far as I can tell.  He came in and ordered a chocolate milk.”

            Dean chuckled.  “I forget that you’re new and don’t know the town yet.  Evan’s mom is a waitress over at the Roadhouse.  Usually Evan hangs out there with her when he’s not at school.  But sometimes he gets bored and wanders.  Everyone in town knows him and just kind of… watches out for him, I guess.”

            “He doesn’t have a baby-sitter?”

            “Not really.  ‘It takes a town,’ and all that.  Does it bother you that he’s there?”

            Castiel peeked into the other room again.  Evan was still patiently sitting at the table.  “No, not particularly.  He’s just sitting there.”  Castiel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I was worried he was lost or ran away or…I don’t know.  What will his mother say?”

            “She’s mostly gotten used to it, I think.  But I’ll give her a call and let her know where he’s at.  Do you want me to come and get him?”

            Something about the innocent curiosity in the boy’s clear blue eyes and the dirt smudge on his forehead prompted Castiel to say “No, that’s alright.  As long as you’re sure he’s fine.”

            He could hear Dean’s grin again as he said “I’m sure.  Have fun Cas.”  And then the line went dead.

            “Alright.  He’s a child.  No big deal.  Just get him his milk, Castiel.”  He muttered to himself as he prepared the milk in one of his mugs, pumped a shot of mocha syrup in and stirred it up.  He popped a straw in, just in case.  Kids liked straws, right?  He made his way around the counter and thunked the mug down in front of the boy, who raised his eyes to Cas’s and grinned toothily at him.

            “Thanks.  I love chocolate milk.”  To emphasize his point, he took a large slurp of the milk through the straw.  “Ahhh.”  He sighed.  Then “What’s your name, mister?”

            Castiel couldn’t help the grin that spread across his own face.  “Castiel.”

            “Castiel.”  Evan rolled his eyes upward theatrically, like he was thinking very hard, before he asked “Is that a witch name?”

            Castiel sighed.  “No.  Actually it’s an angel name.”

            “Huh.  Cool.”  And then the boy turned his attention to the window and Castiel knew when he’d been dismissed.

            He carried on with his day, serving the slow trickle of customers who made their way through his door, but he shot glances over at Evan throughout the day.  No one else commented on the strangeness of a little boy sitting in a coffee shop by himself, so Castiel conceded that Dean must be right.  After two hours, during which time Castiel gave Evan a free refill of chocolate milk, the boy stood, pushed his chair in, waved at Castiel, and made his way out of the shop.  Castiel moved to the window to watch as the boy made his way up Oak Street.  He felt anxiety tighten his chest, but it was mixed with a strange fondness that he tried to dismiss.  He pushed thoughts of the boy from his mind and started on cleaning the counter.

 

* * *

 

 

            One of Castiel’s favorite things to do was to breathe clean air and recharge in the presence of nature.  Today was his day off so he packed a simple lunch and drove his gray Honda Civic to the beautiful countryside surrounding Willowsbend.  He passed through the covered bridge, over the fast-flowing Lawrence and took a left at the giant red arrow that announced the apple orchards.

            It was beautiful.  The sun was just high enough to dust the trees with a golden hue.  A cool, fresh breeze rustled the leaves and the bright, heavy fruits swung on the branches.  Castiel took a deep breath and let the smells of grass, water, and apples soothe him. 

            He made his way slowly through the rows of trees, fingertips trailing against rough bark and smooth leaves.  He closed his eyes and tipped his head back.  Sunlight played in dappled patterns over his face and the earth.  He was peaceful here.

            It was early autumn and he’d been in Willowsbend for a little over a month.  Despite the rough start he’d had, he felt like he was settling in well.  The residents of Willowsbend were polite enough, though some of them continued to be standoffish.  Castiel understood.  It was a small, tight-knit community and he was an outsider.  A _Supernatural_ outsider.  For a community that had little to no experience with the Supernatural world, caution was understandable.  It would take time for Castiel to be incorporated into the town, if it was going to happen at all.  But he had plenty of time and he was hopeful.  Castiel had a slew of loyal customers who frequented his shop every morning.  The Women’s Club had repainted the face of his building and had been ecstatic when he informed them that he had no intention of banning them from the shop.  They held their daily “meetings” at the large table in the center of his shop and though they hadn’t changed their gossiping ways, they made the effort to include him in the news now.  Not that he knew who Sandy Tremble was or cared that Margie’s daughter’s friend was a lesbian. 

His business was doing well enough that he’d needed to hire his first employee.  Andy was a bit strange, but he spent a lot of his time at _Delecto_ anyway, and once Castiel had promised him free coffee, he’d said that he’d do whatever Castiel asked of him.  While they weren’t quite friends, he supposed they were on friendly terms. 

And then there was Dean.

            Dean Winchester was a good man.  Castiel had known from their first dealings that Dean was a man of his word and he cared deeply for the people of Willowsbend.  He took his job seriously and he worked hard to uphold the law and protect his people.  Castiel felt his heart flutter every time he allowed himself to consider that Dean treated _him_ like one of his people.  He’d worked closely with Castiel to sort out the graffiti fiasco and that had had a decent resolution.  But Dean had no reason to continue his association with Castiel after that point.  Only… he did.  Dean stopped by the shop every morning for a coffee to-go before he made his way into the office.  Castiel only saw him a few minutes every day, but he greatly enjoyed the easy conversations they had during those times.  They were simple things: how business was doing, whether anyone was hassling Castiel anymore, how work was for Dean, and random bits and pieces about their lives.  Often times Dean would drop a piece of information that hung, suspended, seeming without motive or connection to the larger picture of life in Willowsbend, until one of Castiel’s customers or Andy would fill him in. One morning, Dean had mentioned he’d gotten a call from “Sammy” before he left the house so he was in a particularly good mood.  Castiel had felt like a fist had a grip on his heart; he replayed all their interactions, searching for a mention of a significant other by that name.  Something must have shown on his face because after Dean left the shop, Andy elbowed him in the ribs and told him that “Sammy” was Sam Winchester, Dean’s younger brother who was away at college studying to become a Supernatural-human liaison.  Castiel had blushed at his overreaction after learning the truth, but he couldn’t deny the curl of pleasure at learning that the beloved “Sammy” was a sibling and not a lover.

            He was in too deep, already.  He knew that.  He wasn’t sure whether it had happened when Dean had defended him against his own town, or whether it had been fated from the moment Castiel had seen him stride meaningfully across the street toward the shop that first morning.  But the fact remained: He had a giant, teenage-sized crush on Officer Dean Winchester.  It was a problem.  They weren’t even friends, not really.  Sharing a quick conversation over a business transaction every day didn’t equate to friendship, did it?  So Castiel made the effort to control himself, to not let his infatuation with the laid-back, handsome officer become too apparent.  Dean was a good man who liked Castiel’s coffee and didn’t care that Castiel was a witch.  Castiel told himself, once again, that that was enough.  He didn’t need anything more.

            The day was beautiful so Castiel pushed thoughts of Dean from his mind and allowed himself to simply connect with the life around him.  He wandered for hours then settled in a shady copse of trees for his lunch.  After he’d eaten his meal, he stretched out under the trees, his head pillowed on his arms, and letting the shifting shadows of the leaves play over his face, he fell asleep.

 

 

 

            When Castiel awoke, the world was tinted a slate blue and the sun had already dipped below the horizon.  Castiel stood and brushed bits of grass from his clothes before quickly packing his things and heading back to the car.  The drive back to town was quick and he pulled into the lot behind his shop before the sky was completely dark.  He made his way around to the front of the building and noticed that the lamps along Oak Street had already come on, giving the store fronts a warm, buttery glow.  Castiel smiled softly to himself and turned to head into the store to see how Andy had fared for the day. 

            The door opened before he could grasp the knob and Dean stepped out into the covered entrance, crowding into Castiel’s space.  “Dean.”  He murmured.

            Dean grinned.  “Heya, Cas.”  He dropped his hand from the door but didn’t bother to finish closing it, or stepping out of Castiel’s space.

            “It’s late.  What are you doing here?”

            Dean ran a hand through his hair, eyes downcast.  “It a crime?”

            Castiel cleared his throat.  “No, of course not.  It’s just… you don’t usually come by except for your morning coffee.”

            Dean chuckled but kept his eyes turned away from Castiel’s.  “Truth is, Andy’s kind of a dick, and after buying coffee from him this morning, I was wondering if you were back yet.”

            Castiel grinned.  “Well, here I am.”

            Dean finally met his eyes again.  “You working tomorrow?”

            “Yes, Dean.  Everything will be back to normal, I promise.”

            “So… enjoy your day off?”

            “Yes, thank you.  It was… relaxing.”

            Dean’s eyes twinkled.  “I’ll bet.”  He reached forward and slipped his fingers into Castiel’s hair, and Castiel couldn’t keep his eyes from fluttering shut at the touch.  Dean chuckled and Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean holding a blade of grass between them. “Looks like you had fun, whatever you were doing.”

            Castiel felt his cheeks warm.  “I uh,” cough, “sort of fell asleep.”

            “Mmmm… was it a nice nap?”

            Castiel wished he could just sink into the earth and disappear.  Dean was taking up too much space and making inappropriate noises and he didn’t think he could take it for much longer.  “Yes.”

            Dean’s voice was playful as he reached forward to grab Castiel’s hand and dropped the blade of grass into it.  “Do all you witch types fall asleep in fields or is it just a Cas thing?”

            Castiel croaked “I’m—I’m not sure.”

            Dean chuckled and tucked his hands into his own pockets before he sidled around Castiel and murmured “See you in the morning, Cas.”

            Castiel turned and watched Dean walk up the road until he rounded the corner.  He looked down at the blade of grass still clutched in the palm of his hand and grinned to himself.  He pushed his way into the shop but stopped dead in his tracks when Andy quirked a brow at him.  Castiel tucked the blade of grass into his pocket, fighting another blush, and, determinedly ignoring Andy’s pointed look, made his way behind the counter to discuss business for the day.


	5. Settling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are welcome! This is the first destiel fic I've posted and I'd like to know what you all think. Thank you!!!

            He met her in the grocery store, of all places.  Castiel was in the middle of testing the texture of a tomato when the honey-eyed brunette woman strode up to him meaningfully and stuck out her hand.  “Castiel, right?  Ellen Harvelle.”  He was slightly taken aback by her abrupt manner but he recognized the name as the woman who owned the Roadhouse, so he set the tomato in his basket and clasped her hand in his own.

            “Nice to meet you.”  He murmured.  He could sense an undercurrent of trepidation in her touch, but it was over-ridden by determination.  Strange.

            “I hear you make a mean cup of coffee.”

            Castiel smiled.  “I try.”

            Ellen maintained eye contact as she said “Figured the place sounded a little too fancy for the likes of me, but some around here sure seem to enjoy it.”  Castiel furrowed his brows but before he had a chance to comment, Ellen said “How are you finding Willowsbend?  Making friends?”

            Castiel fought a grimace.  “Some people are friendlier than others, but so far I’m glad I moved here.”  Despite the vibe that Castiel was getting from her, he decided to keep the tone friendly by asking “You own the Roadhouse, right?  I’ve heard great things about the place.”

            Ellen flashed him a shark grin, but the seriousness in her eyes never flickered.  “Yeah, that’s my place.  We don’t serve lattes, so I doubt it’d be to your taste.  More a beer and burgers sort of joint.”

            Castiel tried not to frown.  “I like burgers.”

            Ellen flicked her gaze over him, appraisingly, before she cocked a hip, crossed her arms and said “I hear you’re friendly with Dean Winchester.”

            Castiel’s eyebrows shot up unwillingly.  Well, this wasn’t the course he’d expected the conversation to take.  So, cautiously he said “…yes.  I would say we’re on friendly terms.  He buys a cup of coffee every morning.”  He shrugged.  “Is it an issue?”

            Ellen took a step into his space and said, softly “You’d better hope it’s not.”  Then she dropped all pretense of a smile.  “Listen up, Castiel, because I’m only gonna say this once.  Dean Winchester is a good man and he has a lot of people in this town that love him.  I know you’re a witch—despite what I might think, Dean’s willing to go to bat for you—says you’re a decent human being regardless.  He’s got a good heart, but he’s not fool proof.  Now: I don’t know what you can do, and I don’t care how powerful you are; if you hurt that boy in any way, you’ll regret ever having seen this town.  Do I make myself clear?”

            Castiel held back the onslaught of denials, of counter-arguments that pressed against the back of his teeth and gave one sharp nod in response. 

            Ellen uncrossed her arms, gave a short nod back and said “Good.  Have a nice day,” before she walked out of his sight and left him, dumbfounded, in the produce section.

 

           

* * *

 

 

           The next morning, Dean didn’t show up for his coffee at 8 am like he usually did.  Castiel told himself that it wasn’t a big deal.  Maybe Dean was busy this morning?  Maybe he didn’t feel like coffee?  Maybe he just didn’t feel like showing up anymore.  It’s not like Dean was under some sort of obligation to come say hello to Castiel every day.  Castiel told himself that it was nothing—he wouldn’t allow himself to think that Dean’s absence might be linked to Ellen’s words from the night before.

            At 8:30 the bell above the door tinkled and Castiel’s head snapped up hopefully, but it wasn’t Dean.  It was Evan.  He had his hands shoved in his pockets and he wore jeans with patches on the knees.  He was lugging a worn black backpack over his shoulder.  Did he always look like a lost puppy?  Evan flashed him a toothy grin.  “Hi Castiel.  Can I hang out here for a little while?”

            “Is it alright with your mother?”

            Evan shrugged “She doesn’t care.”

            Castiel frowned, saying “I’m sure she does.”  He eyed the boy for a moment.  Then “Won’t you get bored?”

            “No.  I have my things today.”  Evan shrugged his shoulder to indicate his bag.

            “Alright.”

            Evan grinned at him and made his way over to the corner table by the window again.  Castiel had to turn to hide the grin that threatened to appear.  A few moments later he sat a mug of chocolate milk and a blueberry muffin down in front of Evan, who was hunched over some sort of notebook, but who looked up with wide blue eyes when Castiel set the food down.  Evan eyed the muffin hungrily before he turned his eyes away.  “I don’t have any money today.”

            Castiel shrugged.  “It’s on the house.”  Evan eyed the blueberry muffin warily but reached for the chocolate milk and took a long drink of it and then grinned, satisfied.

            “Thanks, Castiel.”

            “You’re welcome.  What are you working on there?”  He nodded toward the notepad.

            Evan blushed.  “It’s my sketch pad.  I draw a lot.”

            “Really?  What sorts of things do you draw?”

            “Lots of things.  Animals and people.  I like to draw places and stuff too.”

            “That’s very interesting.  Well, I don’t want to distract you, so I’ll leave you to it.”  Evan nodded then focused back on whatever drawing he had hidden under his freckled arms.

           

 

            Castiel was in the middle of changing out the coffee filters when the door opened again—he turned briefly to see who had entered and a grin spread across his face when he saw that it was Dean.  He was dressed in faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and a green and gold plaid over shirt.  It was refreshing to see him out of his uniform for a change.  “Hey Cas.  How’s it going?”

            “Hello Dean.  I didn’t think you were coming by today.”

            “Like I could make it through the day without my coffee?  You’ve got me hooked, man.”  Castiel’s stomach gave a flutter when Dean flashed him a mega-watt smile.  “Today’s my day off.  Bout time, too.  I was exhausted buuuuuut…..I slept in today and I already feel way better for it.”

            “I’m glad to hear it.  Your regular?”

            “Sure, thanks Cas.  But put it in a mug for here, would ya?  I don’t have anywhere to rush off to today.”

            “Alright.”  As Castiel was fixing the coffee, he heard Dean call “Hey Evan, how’s it going?”

            He turned back to see the boy grinning.  “Pretty good, Officer Dean.  How are you?”

            “I’m awesome.  How’s your mom?”

            “She’s busy.  Working a double today.”

            Dean shook his head.  “Sucks, man.”

            Evan shrugged.  “It’s okay.” 

            Castiel set the coffee down on the counter and Dean turned to face him, green eyes soft.  “Looks like you’ve got a new buddy, Cas.”  He jerked his head toward Evan.  “You okay with him hanging here?”

            “Yes, he’s fine.”

            Dean glanced back over at the boy for a moment.  “Huh.  Why’s he spending money on food when he could just eat at the Roadhouse?”  He glanced back at Castiel.  “No offense, man.”

            Castiel shrugged.  “He didn’t, Dean.  I gave him the food.”

            Dean arched a brow at Castiel.  “He’s not a charity case, Cas.  He does have a place to go, ya know?”  Dean whispered.

            Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean.  “Of course he’s not a charity case, Dean.  He’s a child.  I gave him the food because I wanted to.”  Castiel hissed back, eyes darting to make sure that Evan was still focused on his drawing.  The boy was indeed ignoring them.  “Besides, he’s good company.”  Castiel turned and began wiping down the counter just so that he wouldn’t have to look at Dean.

            Dean held his hands up in surrender.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry, Cas—sometimes I put my foot in it, ya know?”  He shrugged.  “Kid’s growing on you, huh?”

            Castiel shrugged.  “I suppose.”  He busied himself with straightening his work area for a few minutes.  He wasn’t happy with the turn of their conversation.  When he finally focused on Dean again, it was to find the man frowning into his coffee.  Well, that wouldn’t do.  “I met Ellen Harvelle yesterday.”

            Dean’s head snapped up.  “Oh God, what did she do?”

            Castiel shrugged and gave Dean an easy smile.  “She just introduced herself.  Why?  What were you expecting her to have done?”

            Dean ran a hand down his face.  “Nothing, man.  It’s just that Ellen can be a bit intimidating and overprotective sometimes.  It’s kind of overwhelming, especially if you don’t know how to deal with her.”

            “You’re close then?”

            “Yeah, like family.”  Dean furrowed his brow and his mouth twisted into a hard line before he took a deep breath and seemed to deflate.  “When my parents passed, I was 16 and Sammy was only 12.  We were in a tight spot.  Bobby and Ellen helped us through it.  They’re not blood, but they’re good as.”  Dean’s eyes fixed on Castiel’s.  “That’s why I thought she might’a said something to you.”

            Castiel shrugged easily.  “Nothing unwarranted, I’m sure.”

            Dean narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at Cas.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            Castiel grinned  “Nothing Dean.  So this Bobby….?”

            Dean smirked.  “Oh.  Bobby Singer.  Willowsbend Chief of Police.”

            Castiel poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.  “You’re all very close.”

            “Yeah.  Most of the time it’s great.  But sometimes….”

            “Sometimes?”

            “It can be a little smothering, ya know?  When everyone always knows what you’re up to?  When they all want to weigh in on your life.”

            “I understand.  That’s one of the reasons why I left home.”

            “Really?  Gotta admit I’ve been wondering.”

            “I have six brothers and sisters.  Many aunts and uncles and countless cousins.  And they’ve all gone into the family business—selling magical merchandise—but I didn’t want to.”

            “Wow, that’s gotta be rough.”

            “Yes, they weren’t pleased with me.  Disagreements over my personal life ended up being the last straw, I suppose.”

            Dean sat up a little straighter on his chair.  “They kick you out or something?”

            “They disowned me.  So I left.”

            “Why Willowsbend, then?”

            Castiel chuckled.  “To be honest?  I closed my eyes and pointed at a map.  Sounded as good as anywhere else.”

            Dean grinned.  “Well, looks like luck was on our side.  Their loss.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Good morning, ladies.”  Castiel greeted, delivering the morning usual to the Women’s Club, who sat at their traditional table and had already begun the daily round of gossip.  They all smiled up at him charmingly and thanked him for the coffees.  “Oh, before I forget,” Castiel rummaged in the pocket of his apron and pulled out a small, black silk sachet.  “Margie, here is the protection charm I promised you.”

            Margie took the charm then rose from her seat to embrace Castiel warmly and place a peach lipstick kiss on his cheek.  “Thank you Castiel, you’re such a darling.  What do I have to do to make sure it works?”

            Castiel rubbed absently at the mark on his cheek.  “Just make sure to hang it somewhere in the baby’s room, preferably near to the crib.  As long as you don’t open it and it’s not damaged in some way, it should work just fine.”

            “Alright.  I’ll be sure to do that.  And it’ll protect against…?”

            Castiel flashed her a soothing smile.  “Just about everything.  Nightmares included.”

            Cindy and Elsie both cooed in response and smiled at Castiel in the way that he’d come to associate as the “What an Adorable Puppy” look.  They exchanged a conspiratorial glance before Cindy said “Castiel, dear, you’re such a thoughtful man.  It’s a shame you don’t have anyone to take care of you in the same way….”  Elsie jumped in, saying with false casualness “You know, my daughter will be visiting soon.  I think you two should meet.  You might… hit it off.”

            Castiel smiled indulgently at the women.  “It would be lovely to meet your daughter, Elsie.  But I’m not really… in the market, as you might say.”

            Elsie furrowed her brow.  “Oh?  Don’t you want to find someone you can settle down with, Castiel?”

            “Not particularly.  But thank you for your concern.”  He shot them all one last glance.  “Congratulations again on your new grandson, Margie.”  Then he left them to their muttered conspiracies.

 


	6. The Harvest Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is reading this! You guys are amazing! Comments welcome! :)
> 
> Warning for: Fluff, innuendos, and inappropriate noises.

            Autumn in Willowsbend was beautiful.  The leaves were turning so that the landscape was painted with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.  For the past two weeks the town had been busy with the harvest: bringing in the fall crops and relieving the apple trees of their last fruit.  The grocery store was stuffed with barrels of apples and jugs of fresh apple cider.  Warm apple pies lined window sills and to walk through Willowsbend was to smell the rich, warm scents of cinnamon and baked apples.

            Autumn was Castiel’s favorite season and he was filled with joy to learn that the residents of Willowsbend were just as enthusiastic.  The quaint little town was transformed into a harvest wonderland within the span of what seemed like a single weekend.  By mid-October the lamps lining the main streets had been twined with tasteful orange decorations.  Pumpkins sat cheerily in store-front windows.  The colorful leaves that blew down the streets and the earlier sun sets and steel grey skies leant the town a strange cast.  It was almost as though the entire town of Willowsbend and all its inhabitants were holding their breath; poised between summer and winter—there was still time to celebrate the changing of the seasons, but everyone knew that soon preparations for winter would have to be made. 

            Castiel had added spiced cider to his usual menu and indulged in the sweet, spicy drink himself nearly every evening after he’d closed the shop and retired to his apartment.  In the comfort of his own home, he burned pumpkin spice candles while he curled up with his cat, Nox, and a good book.  He adorned the front door of his shop with a seasonal wreath he’d made by hand from leaves found on his early morning walks.

 

* * *

 

 

            It was a rainy Tuesday, a week and a half before Halloween that found Dean pushing into the warmth of _Delecto_ and shaking the rain from his hair and shoulders once he was safe inside.  He shucked his jacket and hung it on the coat rack next to the door and wiped his boots the best he could on the welcome mat so he wouldn’t drip puddles of water all over the coffee shop.  Dean scowled when he saw that Andy was working behind the counter today—the cheeky bastard gave him a flirty wave and then promptly ignored him.  Dean was regretting having stopped by when a mop of messy black hair caught his attention from the corner where it was bent over a laptop.

            Dean dropped into the chair across from Cas and the other man startled, wide blue eyes darting up to Dean’s.  Dean gave him an easy grin and Castiel relaxed.  “Hello Dean.  I didn’t notice you come in.”

            Dean snorted.  “I could see that.”  He nodded toward the laptop.  “What ya up to?”

            Castiel frowned down at the computer before sighing and shutting the lid.  “I was in the middle of submitting next month’s supply order but my supplier has changed some of the codes.  It is very frustrating.”

            “I’ll bet.”  Dean fiddled with his shirt sleeve for a moment before meeting Castiel’s gaze again.  “So, I don’t know if anyone’s told you or not, but this weekend is the Willowsbend Harvest Festival.  It’s kind of a big deal—it’s one of our biggest festivals of the year, and usually everyone goes.”

            Castiel smiled brightly.  “Yes, I had heard.  Andy informed me of it.  I thought that entering into the apple pie contest would be a nice way to try to, um… integrate myself into the community more fully.”

            Dean was embarrassed when he couldn’t hold back a groan of anticipation at the thought.  “Oh man, that’s _awesome._ I love me some apple pie.”

            Castiel grinned.  “So I take it that’s one of your favorite parts of the festival?”

            “Definitely.  I’m one of the judges for the competition.”  Dean flashed Castiel a wolfish grin.  “And if your pie is anything like your coffee, I can’t wait to taste it.”

            From behind the counter Andy snorted and then coughed raucously.  “Did—did you just say you wanna taste his pie?”  Andy doubled over, laughing.  “Ahahahaha.  You crack me up, Winchester.”

            Dean felt a blush crawl up the back of his neck when he reviewed his words and realized that they could have been taken… differently… than he’d intended.  He didn’t dare look at Cas.  Cas finally broke the awkwardness when he cleared his throat and said “Well, if you enjoy the pie, perhaps I’ll bake another for you.”  Dean finally summoned the courage to meet Cas’s eyes again.  His cheeks were tinged a faint pink but he was giving Dean that soft, easy grin that always seemed to relax him.

            “Uh, thanks, Cas.”  Dean shifted awkwardly in his seat.  He was pretty sure that they’d just wandered into flirting territory, but he couldn’t be sure.  It was always dangerous with Cas.  For some reason, Dean just found him so easy to be around, and when they were in the same space, Dean’s filter seemed to disappear.  And Andy was still chuckling to himself behind the counter like the asshole that he was.  So…best to change the subject.  “So, uh, the Harvest Festival.  You going with anyone?”  Andy snorted in the background.  Dean had to remind himself that it was NOT OKAY to shoot civilians just because they were dicks.

            “No, I was just going to wander over on my own.  I don’t really know anyone that well yet, aside from Andy and yourself.”

            Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and, as casually as he could, he suggested “Well, you’re welcome to sit with Sammy and me during the picnic.  If you want to, that is.”

            Castiel’s whole face lit up.  “I would love to.  Thank you, Dean.”

            “Sammy will be excited when I tell him.  He can’t wait to meet you, man. I think you guys will get along great, actually.”  When Castiel just continued to beam at him, Dean cleared his throat and said “Alright man, well, I gotta go.  See ya later, Cas.”  Andy continued to snicker at his back while Dean made his way out of the coffee shop.  What a jerk.  There was nothing weird with inviting a friend to chill with you at a picnic, right?  No, definitely nothing wrong with it.  Castiel was a pretty cool guy.  But he had no friends.  Dean was just being nice.  Yeah.  Fuck Andy.  What did he know, anyway?

 

* * *

 

 

            Castiel spent the next two evenings experimenting with recipes.  He’d wanted to make a good effort: Andy had explained how big a deal the Harvest Festival was.  And as for the pie contest: Ellen Harvelle won first place every year.  Castiel didn’t want to step on her toes, but he did want to show her that he could participate in normal community activities too.  He didn’t want the fact that he was a witch be what defined him in Willowsbend.  Now, though, he had an added incentive.  Castiel’s eyes had nearly rolled back when Dean had groaned at the mere thought of apple pie.  In Castiel’s line of work, he aimed to please.  And if an apple pie could get Dean to make that sound again then, well, that was just an added bonus. 

 

* * *

 

 

            The day of the Harvest Festival dawned cool and clear.   Golden light peeked over the horizon and inched its way across the floorboards of the old farm house.  Dean moaned and rolled over, burying his face deep into the fluffy white pillows of his bed, desperately chasing the good dream he’d been having…. It slipped through his fingers though, in a flurry of black and blue, and Dean rolled over, blinking in the pale light of the morning.  He sighed, running his palms over his face.  He stretched lazily in the bed for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of the cool sheets sliding against his warm skin, and then he smiled when he remembered what day it was.

            He crawled out of bed and dressed quickly, pulling on his favorite pair of faded jeans, a charcoal t-shirt, and a red and gold plaid shirt over that.  He smiled to himself as he padded, barefoot, down the hallway and heard the raucous snoring coming from his brother’s room.

            Dean liked to pretend that he wasn’t a morning person.  It was a lie.  He loved the feel of waking with the sun.  He reveled in the solitude that came with being awake when the majority of the world slept on.  He loved his sleep as much as the next guy, but there was nothing like the fresh feeling of sitting on the front porch, sipping a coffee, and watching as the sun rose, light spilling over the tree tops of Grey’s Forest.

            Dean put on a pot of coffee and began pulling things out of the fridge.  Within moments, the smells of coffee and bacon mingled in the kitchen.  Eggs joined the milieu shortly after that.  Dean was just plating the food when heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and Sam emerged into the kitchen, his too-long hair sticking up at odd angles.  He rubbed his eyes and yawned and Dean had to hide his own smile.  His brother might be a giant now, but when he did things like that, all Dean could see was his little brother.  Sam, still dressed only in a white t-shirt and plaid boxers, slumped into a chair at the table.  When Dean set a plate of food and a mug of coffee in front of him, Sam groaned and immediately snatched the coffee up, taking a deep drink of it.  “Thanks, Dean.” 

            Dean smiled and took his own seat, ruffling his brother’s hair as he did so.  “No problem, Sammy.  Eat up.  Busy day ahead.”

            Dean was crunching through a piece of bacon when Sam grinned at him and said “I always forget that you turn into a little kid on the day of the Festival.”

            Dean gave Sam a serious look.  “Dude.  Pie.”  He chomped another bite of bacon and reached forward for his own mug of coffee.  He took a sip before scrunching his nose up at it and setting it back down on the table.

            Sam laughed at him.  “What?”

            “Huh?”

            “Dude, you just looked at your coffee like it personally offended you.”

            “Oh.  Uh, yeah.  Just not used to this stuff anymore, I guess.”  Sam raised a questioning eyebrow and Dean chuckled, running a self-conscious hand through his hair.  “I usually get my morning coffee from Cas’s place.”

            “Ah yes, the mysterious Cas.”  Dean ignored his brother’s smirk and shoveled some eggs into his mouth.  “Will I get to meet him today?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Sure.  I invited him to sit with us during the picnic.”  Sam’s jaw dropped and Dean shot him an annoyed look.  “What?”

            “Really?”

            “Yes, Sam.  Really.  What’s the big deal?”

            “Nothing.  It’s just… it’s usually just the two of us, ya know?”

            “Well the guy still doesn’t have any friends, so I was trying to be nice.  Plus you said you’d like to meet him, so….”

            “Aha.  Sure.”

            Dean leveled his brother with his best annoyed face.  “Sam.”

            Sam held his hands up placatingly.  “Alright, I get it.  I’m done.”  He snatched up his last piece of bacon and stood, all innocence now.  Dean didn’t believe it for a second.

            “Aha.  Just go shower.  I don’t want to be late.  We have to help set up, you know.”

            “Yeah, yeah.  I’m on it.  Jerk.”

            Dean threw a crumpled paper towel at his brother’s retreating back.  “Bitch!”  He called.  He could hear Sam’s laughter even after he’d shut the bathroom door.

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean had worked up a sweat by the time that the rest of the townsfolk started showing up to Memorial Field.  Dean and Sam had helped to set up the vending tents and booths like they did every year, and Dean had hauled bales of hay for the public to take photos on, complete with pumpkins perched picturesquely among them, in accordance with the sharp eye of Jo Harvelle, who stood holding her clipboard, double checking that everyone was on the ball for the day.  She was too busy to chat; Dean could tell that she was stressed, but like always, Jo kept her cool and ran the operation smoothly.  Victor Henriksen was a good mayor, but Dean knew for a fact that the business of caring for a town like Willowsbend wouldn’t run as smoothly as it did without the dedication of this woman.  Victor was lucky to have her as his right hand.  Dean snorted.  Jo probably never let him forget it, either.

            Dean and Sam lingered together and parted several times throughout the morning.  They both had tasks they were responsible for, but Dean was grateful for the time that he had with his brother.  Sam made an effort to come home when he could, but the kind of degree he was working toward took a lot of time and energy and he couldn’t always make it when he wanted to.  Dean’s not the only one who missed Sam and while a part of him resented other people taking up their valuable time, he understood it.  Everyone loved Sam.  Ellen had snatched him up first thing that morning and had hardly let him out of her sight (that was before she came over to harass Dean.)  When Bobby and Garth had shown up to start making rounds, both dressed in their tan and black uniforms, they’d convinced Sam into walking with them and catching up.  Dean almost felt bad when Becky found him, but then he remembered Sam’s quips from breakfast and instead just flashed Sam an overly-cheerful grin when Becky latched onto his arm and dragged him away.

 

 

            Memorial field was situated just a couple blocks away from the town square and was framed on the west side by the road that led into town from the apple orchards, on the north by the old, picturesque buildings of the town itself, on the east it backed up to the forest, and finally, to the south, it led into land owned by the McSween family.  They were farmers like most of Willowsbend’s residents but their specialty and great contribution to the community was their pumpkin patch.  Today the gates to their plot had been thrown wide open and the entire community was welcomed in to enjoy hay rides and scour the patch for the perfect pumpkin.  Mr. McSween and his son in law were running hayrides and helping a gaggle of children find the best pumpkins while Margie McSween and her daughter, with a beautiful baby on her knee, ran their pie stand on the field. 

            The day was beautiful: sunny but crisp.  It was warm enough to run around outside and enjoy the sunshine but cool enough that you needed a jacket.  Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and moseyed around the field, headed toward the pumpkin patch.  When he got to the gate, he saw a familiar head of messy black hair and he grinned, waving.  Castiel said a couple words to Mr. McSween then made his way casually toward Dean.  He was wearing dark blue jeans, a blue Henley that matched his eyes, boots, and a thin black leather jacket.  He looked good.  Damn good.  Dean decided not to over-think it.  Cas met him at the gate with a huge, toothy grin and a “Hello, Dean.”

            Dean threw his arm over Cas’s shoulders and steered him back toward the field.  “Hey man, you liking the Festival so far?”

            Cas stiffened under Dean’s arm but eventually Dean felt the tension drain from his shoulders and they walked easily together.  “Well, it’s a beautiful day, for one.  I hadn’t imagined that this many people would be out, honestly.”

            Dean grinned.  “Oh yeah, this is kind of our thing, ya know?  Even the businesses that are usually open on the weekends shut down for the day, or at least a few hours to come and enjoy the fun.”

            “Mmm.”  Cas cocked his head and then gave Dean a side-eyed look.  “Everyone has been very friendly today.  I’ve seen many of my usual customers out and about, and they’ve made a point to say hello to me.”

            “See, man.  I told you: Willowsbend has good people.  They just had to get to know you a bit.”

            “So it seems.  You don’t have to work today?”

            “Nope.  Today is my day off.  Not that it matters a whole lot.  Bobby and Garth are here too.  They’re in uniform but it won’t stop them from enjoying themselves.”

            “That’s good, I suppose.  I have to admit, I find it very reassuring that I have moved to a place where police officers can mingle with their community and everyone still enjoys themselves.”

            Dean quirked an eyebrow.  “You come from a rough neighborhood or something?”

            Cas laughed.  “No, just a rather large city.  Anonymity can be a blessing at times, or in the case of public officials, a curse.  No one really gets the benefit of the doubt, you know?”

            “Hmmm…”  Dean squinted his eyes against the sun and surveyed the crowds of people gathered on the field: his people.  “I’m glad I come from a small town, then.  Here, I don’t have to wear a uniform for all of these people to know who I am.”

            Cas bobbed his head easily.  “You’re a good man, Dean.  Your community respects you.”

            Dean coughed and glanced away from Castiel’s large, honest blue eyes, and did his best not to blush.

 

 

            It was Ellen Harvelle who eventually came to collect Dean and herd him toward the podium for the pie tasting.  She gave Castiel a pointed raise of her eyebrow when she pulled Dean from his side.  He smiled easily back at her and tried not to feel too offended.  He followed the both of them to the podium where a crowd had gathered and Castiel felt a jolt of nervousness and excitement in his belly.

            Dean joined two other men, both dressed in the Willowsbend Police uniform (It was easy to distinguish which one was Bobby: the older, gruff looking man with the graying beard, and Garth: the tall, gangly young man with the huge, watery eyes and goofy grin.  Once all three men were seated and had settled down, a beautiful blonde woman took up a mic and the crowd settled easily at her friendly grin. 

            “Alright Willowsbend, are you all ready to get down to business?”  The crowd cheered and a little girl darted to the front, knocking into Castiel as she went.  “Presenting our annual judges, the esteemed Willowsbend Police Officers: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, and Garth Fitzgerald!”  The crowd hooted and clapped and Castiel found himself clapping along.  “Now, before things get too serious, I just want to let any visitors or newcomers know: we in Willowsbend pride ourselves on our apples.  And more importantly, we pride ourselves on our pie!  This might look like fun and games, but let me tell you, it’s life or death, people.  The winner of the apple pie contest gets year-long bragging rights in this town AND has their name featured on our town website.  With that said, let’s give a round of applause to Ellen Harvelle, winner of the Willowsbend apple pie contest for the last five consecutive years!”  The crowd roared their support.  Ellen, who was standing near to the front of the crowd turned and threw her fists into the air.  Even Castiel couldn’t keep back a chuckle.  “Alright, folks, without further ado: Mr. Mayor, let’s bring on the pie!”  Jo grinned and moved to the side to help the mayor, Victor Henriksen (who Castiel recognized from the town website) hand plates of pie up to the three judges.

            Castiel watched as plate after plate was passed among the judges.  It was all very amusing but Castiel would be a liar if he said he didn’t shift uncomfortably a few times.  His eyes were focused, laser-like, on Dean Winchester.  Castiel was convinced that the man was completely unaware of his actions.  He scooped pie onto his fork, raised it to his lips, and took a bite, moaning low in the back of his throat as his eyes fluttered shut.  His tongue darted out to lick at a drop of pie filling at the corner of his mouth.  The process was repeated with each new pie and Castiel finally had to look away.  Standing in the middle of a crowd was definitely NOT the appropriate time for indulging his thoughts.  Finally, though, his attention was diverted back to the point of the whole competition when Garth took a huge bite of a slice of pie and exclaimed “Oh boy, this one is delicious.”  He sent a wink at the crowd.  “ _Must be Ellen’s!_ ”  He sang.  Dean furrowed his brow and dug his fork into that pie, murmuring “Let me see.”  He took the bite, and again, groaned and a blissful smile passed over his lips.  Eventually, he opened his eyes and shook his head.  “You’re right about it being awesome, Garth, but I’ll bet you it’s not Ellen’s.”  The final pie was passed up and Dean dug his fork into that one.  He took one bite, moaned, and threw a wink into the crowd.  “This one is Ellen’s.”

            Sure enough, the last pie was Ellen Harvelle’s.  And like she had for the last five years, she was announced the first place winner again this year.  It amazed Castiel that her pie was exceptional enough that Dean could identify it by taste alone.  Second-place was announced and Castiel felt himself blush when he was called to the front.  He shook hands with the mayor and took his second place ribbon.  Ellen Harvelle gave him another _look_ but when he congratulated her on her win, she finally cracked a smile and told him that it was nice to see some new competition.  “It’ll keep me on my toes.”  She winked at him and then went to assist her daughter and the mayor in cleaning up.

 

 

            After the pie contest, Dean and Castiel made their way toward the other end of the field where vendors were selling food for the picnic and the sound system began pumping out classic rock tunes.  Dean flung his arm over Castiel’s shoulders again and winked at him, saying “That was some damn good pie, Cas.”  He chuckled when Castiel’s cheeks flushed and he looked away. 

            Dean allowed his arm to slip from Cas’s shoulders as Sam approached them, one brow raised on his smug face, eyes darting pointedly between Dean and Castiel.  “Hey guys.”  He said easily, coming to stand in front of them.  Dean clapped once, awkwardly, and said “Heya, Sammy.  This is Cas.  Cas, this is my little brother Sammy.”

            Sam shot him a bitch face but held his hand out for Cas to shake.  When the other man gripped it firmly, Sam said, “Call me Sam.  It’s nice to meet you Cas, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            Castiel gave Sam a sweet smile and said “Likewise.  Dean speaks of you often.  Are you enjoying your visit home?”

 

 

 

            Dean was right.  Sam and Cas got along great.  They chatted while the three of them waited in line at the church booth where they were serving up barbeque chicken and potato salad.  Their conversation continued on the walk back to the blanket that Sam had spread on the field as their designated picnic space.  They were still going as they settled down and started to eat.  Sam was acting like his usually nerdy self, jumping from subject to subject like an over-eager puppy.  Cas answered all of his questions patiently and his answers seemed to endear him to Dean’s little brother.  He could tell from the shine in Sam’s eyes that Cas had a new fangirl.  Sam would have to fight the Women’s Club for Castiel’s attention.  He chuckled to himself and shoveled a large forkful of potato salad in his mouth.  Whatever.  Sam was studying to become a human-supernatural liaison, after all, so interrogating Cas was like, his idea of an awesome time.  Not that talking to Cas was ever boring, but…. “Hey, Sammy, you wanna quit fangirling over the guy for five minutes so that he can eat his food?”

            Sam blushed and shoved his hands through his long hair awkwardly, mumbling, “Sorry man, I can get carried away sometimes.”

            Castiel laughed softly and said “It’s no problem, Sam, I’ve enjoyed speaking with you.”  Castiel shot Dean a look that Dean was sure was meant to be reprimanding, but Dean just shoved another forkful into his mouth and grinned back.  Cas shook his head and began to eat his own lunch.

            As the afternoon wore on, the three of them eventually lay back on the blanket, hands behind their heads, and just chatted and listened to the music.  There was something so comfortable about lying between Sam and Cas: Dean couldn’t keep the happy grin from his face.  They were in the middle of chatting about work when a shadow fell across their faces.  Dean cracked an eye open and saw a toothy grin and messy red hair.  “Hey, Castiel!”  Cas pushed himself up on his elbows and grinned back.  “Hello, Evan.  Are you enjoying yourself today?”

            Evan nodded excitedly.  “Oh yeah.  Mom has the day off.  We saw you win second place in the contest!  That must have been good pie!”

            Dean grinned back at the boy.  “Sure was.”

            Cas blushed again.  “Thank you.”

            “Me and mom are heading over to the pumpkin patch in a minute so we can pick one out for the house.”

            “Ah, I was over there earlier today.  There are many amazing specimens.  Have fun choosing one.”

            “Thanks, Castiel!  I’ll see you later!”  He flashed them all another grin.  “You too, Officer Dean!  Sam!”  And then he dashed off.  Cas laid back down and covered his face with his elbow.

            Sam chuckled.  “What was that all about?”

            “Oh, Evan has adopted Cas.”

            Sam snorted. “What?”

            Cas groaned next to him and Dean laughed.  “It’s true.  He likes to hang out in Cas’s shop.  Cas encourages him by giving him free chocolate milk.” 

Sam shook his head.  Dean elbowed Cas until he huffed, saying “Quit it, Dean.”

            Yep.  Perfect day.

 

 

 

            Cas stayed to help take down the booths and clean up and Dean couldn’t help noticing he had a content smile on his face, a nice change from his usually solemn look.  They were finished before the sun dipped beyond the horizon.

            Sam dusted his hands on his jeans and then shook with Cas one more time.  “It was great meeting you, man.  I hope we have another chance to hang out soon.”

            Cas smiled easily back.  “I would like that, Sam.  Enjoy your night.”

            Sam turned to Dean saying “I told Jo I’d catch up with her after we were done with the take-down.  I’ll see you at home later, alright?”

            “Sure Sammy.  See ya later.”  With a last wave, Sam loped off to find Jo.  Dean turned to find Cas watching him.  He shifted awkwardly.  “What?”

            Cas smiled softly.  “It was nice to meet Sam.  He’s a very kind, intelligent young man.” 

            “Yep, that’s Sammy for ya.”

            “And it was interesting to see you interacting with him.”

            Dean cocked a brow.  “Oh yeah?  How so?”

            Cas shrugged.  “He’s one of the people you care most about in the world.  It was… enlightening to see you with him.”

            Dean laughed and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably.  “So what did you learn?”  Cas grinned at him and turned, starting to head across the field.  “Shit.”  Dean muttered.  He jogged to catch up with the other man.  “Cas?  Hey, come on man…”

            Cas ignored his questioning, however, and countered with “Would you mind walking to the shop with me, Dean?”

            “Uh, sure, man.”  Dean shrugged and decided to let his interrogation go.  “So what’d you think of your first Willowsbend Harvest Festival?”

            Cas hummed softly under his breath for a moment before saying “I enjoyed myself greatly.  It was a beautiful day and everyone was very friendly.  It was a great opportunity for me to learn more about the town and its people.  Thank you again for inviting me to eat with you and Sam.”

            “Aw, no problem, Cas.  You’re welcome anytime, man.”

            Finally they reached the shop and Cas darted inside, telling Dean to wait at the door and that he’d be right back.  A minute later, Cas came back and held a pie out to Dean, eyes shy.  Dean didn’t miss the blush as Cas said “I’m glad you liked the pie earlier, Dean.  I, uh… I made an extra one.  For you.  Here.”

            Dean took the pie and, before he could over-think it, pulled Cas into a tight hug.  Cas was warm and soft, but Dean could feel his muscles shift under his clothes as he tentatively wrapped his own arms around Dean.  Dean inhaled.  Cas smelled warm, like cinnamon and coffee.  Dean held his breath, savoring the scent, before he exhaled against Cas’s neck.  “Thanks, man.”  He ignored Cas’s shiver as the other man mumbled “You’re welcome, Dean.”


	7. What Are YOU Supposed to Be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big THANK YOU to everyone who is reading this. Please comment and let me know what you think. I appreciate you all!

            Sunday night meant the weekly family dinner.  On this particular Sunday, Ellen had made a rich spaghetti and a couple loaves of garlic bread, and her house smelled heavenly.  It was nice that Sammy was home this week: too often weekly dinner meant Dean sitting at the table trying to eat as fast as he could while Bobby, Ellen, and Jo ganged up on him.  However, as the night progressed, Dean wondered why he ever thought that having Sammy there would shift the dynamic.  The little traitor joined right in on their jabs and soon it was four against one.  Awesome.

 

            They were all gathered comfortably around the dinner table and currently grilling Sam on his love life.  He was acting dodgy, letting his floppy bangs hide his eyes and Dean knew they had struck conversation gold.  “So, who is she, Sammy?  You’re blushing like a thirteen year old girl over there.”

            Sam finally raised his head, shooting Dean a bitch face and chucking a piece of garlic bread at him.  “Jerk.”

            Jo cackled and elbowed Sam in the ribs.  “Oooh, looks like there’s some confessing to do….  So, out with it.” 

            Sam sighed like he carried the burden of the world on his shoulders.  “It’s not like that…exactly.”

            Ellen raised her brows from where she sat at the end of the table.  “Then what’s it like?”

            Sam shifted and then shot Dean another look, like it was all his fault.  Dean grinned back at him and shoved another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth.

            “There’s a girl in my program…. But it’s not like what you guys are thinking.  It’s strictly a professional interest.”

            “As in… you’re professionally interested in her?”

            “Dean, that was lame.”  Sam huffed.  “I meant, as in, she’s really smart and tough, and she’s going to be a lawyer.  We take some of the same classes.”

            “What kind of law is she planning on practicin’?”  Bobby asked.

            “Um… she wants to be a defense attorney.  For, uh… for Supernaturals.”

            Silence.  “Well, uh, that’s a new one.”  Bobby finally broke the silence and Sam shot him a grateful smile.

            “Yeah, well, there was never really a market for it before, ya know?  Now, though?  There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s going to be in high demand.”

            “So what’s the interest?”  Ellen asked, brow arched.

            “Well, it’s likely we’ll end up working together sometime or other, right?  It’s good to have allies where I can get ‘em.  My job’s not necessarily the most popular… or the most well-received, and hers won’t be either.  Maybe we’ll be able to help each other out sometime down the road.”

            Dean swallowed a large bite of garlic bread.  “So, uh, this lawyer chick got a name?”  He took a large gulp of his beer.

            “Yeah.  Her name is Ruby.”  Sam shot Dean an evil grin before saying “Speaking of love interests, _Dean,_ is there anyone _you’re_ interested in?”

            Dean took another sip of his beer.  “Nope.”

            “Are you sure?  You’re not interested in, say, _the resident witch?_ ”

            Dean choked on his beer and sat the bottle down, sputtering.  He thumped his chest.  “ _Cas_?!”

            Sam cackled and he and Jo high-fived.  “We knew it.”

            Dean heaved in a breath.  “I’m not interested in Cas.”

            Jo quirked her eyebrow.  “Oh yeah?  Well, rumor has it that you have a giant man-crush on the guy.”

            Dean narrowed his eyes at Jo’s perky grin.  “And who, exactly, started this rumor?”

            Jo shrugged.  “It’s not exactly a secret.  The whole town thinks you guys have a… thing.”

            Dean snorted.  “That’s ridiculous.”

            “Is it?  Everyone knows you’ve been spending more and more time with him.  And then after yesterday?  We weren’t the only ones who saw you walking around with your arm around him.”

            “It was a friendly gesture!”  Dean growled.

            “Hmmm…does he know that?”  Jo took a sip of her own beer, eyeing Dean over the rim.  “He’s gay, you know.”

            “What?!  Cas is not gay.”

            “Yes he is.”

            “Jo….”  Dean warned, pointing a slice of garlic bread at her.

            Ellen cleared her throat.  “Actually, hon, it’s true.  He told Andy.”

            Dean snorted.  “And _why_ are we believing Andy?”

            Sam rolled his eyes.  “Well, he does work with the guy, doesn’t he?  He’d know if anyone would.”

            Dean huffed.  “Whatever.  This town is a goddam rumor mill, I swear.  And anyway, we’re not _like that_.  This is ME we’re talking about here, remember?  Me.  I dig chicks.  Not dudes.”

            Jo smirked.  “Even if they’re cute witchy coffee shop owners?”

            Sam pointed his fork at Dean, “Who bake you pie?”

            Dean blushed and looked back down at his spaghetti.  That pie had been fucking awesome.  But he should have known Sam would be a little bitch and bring it up.  Dean shot the whole table a glare.

            Jo shrugged easily and took another sip of her beer.  “All I’m saying is: if you wanted to keep your giant crush a secret, maybe you shouldn’t have been all over him in front of the whole town.  That’s all.”

            Dean took another bite of his garlic bread, chewing stubbornly against the nervous twisting in his stomach.  Jo and Sam could be bitches all they wanted.  What did they know, anyway?  Dean would just have to talk with Cas and get everything straightened out.  No big deal.

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Sunday night after they’d left Ellen’s, he drove Sam and himself back to the house and he blared AC/DC to clear his head, but he just kept replaying what he’d heard at dinner.  After he and Sam had said good night, Dean had taken a long, hot shower—the perfect thing to relax—but it didn’t work.

            That’s how Dean Winchester found himself lying in bed at 2 am, exhausted, frustrated, and confused.  He was replaying every interaction he and Cas had shared since they’d met, looking for signs, clues that Jo’s words were justified.  Dean huffed and kicked his sheets off.  He punched his pillow.  Turned over. 

            “Son of a bitch,” he growled, heaving himself out of bed to pace.  Things were always so _easy_ between him and Cas.  Dean usually tried not to overthink it.  So what if they maybe stood a little too close?  Or touched each other just a little too often to be socially acceptable?  It was their thing.  Cas was socially awkward and probably didn’t even understand that they were breaking social rules.  It didn’t _mean_ anything.  Just that they were comfortable with each other.  They were friends.  There weren’t _rules_ dictating how friends could act with each other.  The way they were… it was just their thing.  It was how Dean & Cas did friendship.  So fuck everyone else.  Andy and Jo and Sam and this town’s damn rumor mill.  So what if Cas always smiled all shy and dopey at him?  It didn’t make Cas _gay._ And so what if Dean liked spending time with the guy?  What did it matter if Dean thought he smelled really good and had really nice eyes and he liked the way his hair stuck up all over the place.  It didn’t mean he had a freaking crush on the guy for Christ’s sake.  It just meant he was observant. 

            He ran a hand down his face, groaning.  “Son of a bitch.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Monday morning Dean marched into _Delecto,_ psyched up and determined to get the whole mess straightened out.  But then Cas looked up from the register and grinned so sweetly at Dean that he couldn’t do it.  What kind of asshole just came out and _asked_ a guy something like that, anyway?  What was he even _thinking?_   Fucking Jo.  She sooo wasn’t getting a Christmas present this year.

            Tuesday Dean had barely stepped foot into the shop when Andy poked his head over the counter and shouted “Your boyfriend’s not here!”  Dean curtly flipped him the finger and marched right back out the door.

            By Wednesday morning, Dean was feeling ragged from all the over-thinking and second guessing.  So-fucking-what if Cas DID end up being gay?  It didn’t change a damn thing, did it?  It’s not like they were actually, like… _together_ or anything.  He’d been letting all the gossip get to him and distract him from the important things in life.  Like his job.  And his friends.  And coffee. 

            So when Dean walked into _Delecto_ Wednesday morning, it was an air of determined light-heartedness.  He pushed the door open, eager to get out of the chill, and was hit with a blast of warm, rich, coffee-scented air.  He inhaled deeply and already felt himself relaxing as he allowed the door to shut behind him.  Cas peeked out of the back room long enough to shoot Dean a smile and say “Hello, Dean—I’ll be right out,” before he disappeared again.  Dean took a look around the room.  The Women’s Club was there early: sitting at their usual table, clutching their coffees and tittering among themselves.  They raised their eyes when he walked in and then dove back into their conversation.  Dean’s eyes scanned the shop and settled on Evan.  The corner table was covered in newspaper and the boy was currently elbows-deep in the guts of a pumpkin.  Dean couldn’t help but grin.  He wandered over to the boy.

            “Heya, Evan.  Watcha up to, buddy?”

            Evan’s brow was creased in concentration but he gifted Dean with a faint smile anyway.  “Busy making jack-o-lanterns.  Halloween is on Friday.  I told Castiel I couldn’t believe none of his pumpkins was carved yet, so then he gave me chocolate milk and this carver and told me to make myself useful.”  Dean busted up laughing.

            “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, then.”  Dean wandered over to lean against the counter and waited patiently for Castiel to emerge from the back room.  He covertly flicked his eyes to the other side of the shop and couldn’t help the twinge up his spine when he realized the Women’s Club were watching him.  Ugh.  Luckily for Dean, Castiel was back a moment later, carrying a box of supplies.  “What’s up, Cas?”

            Cas paused, shooting Dean a confused look.  “Um…nothing?”  He shrugged.  “I was merely in the back gathering some supplies.  I ran out of Godiva syrup because _someone_ drinks a lot of chocolate milk.” 

            Evan huffed from the corner “I heard that!”

            Castiel chuckled to himself.  Dean cleared his throat and nodded toward the kid.  “I see you’ve decided to put him to work.  Took you long enough.”

            Cas shrugged and then leaned toward Dean conspiratorially to whisper “He wanted to help carve them but he’d never ask outright—he’s stubborn like that.”  Dean felt a shiver go up his spine.  He wasn’t sure whether it was from Cas’s closeness or his strangely accurate perception.

            Dean shook off the weirdness and flashed Cas a grin.  “Yeah, well, stubbornness is under-appreciated.”

            Cas snorted.  “I’m sure.”

            Dean dragged a hand down his face and tried to stifle a yawn.  Cas flashed him a sympathetic look and began preparing his coffee.  “Long night?”

            Dean shrugged.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

            “Hmmm… that’s not good.  I could make something to help you if you’d like?”  He handed the cup of coffee over and their fingers brushed casually in the exchange, only, Dean’s brain shouted, maybe it wasn’t casual?

            “Nah, no worries man, it’ll sort itself out.”  Dean took a sip from the cup and felt the warmth seep through his body.  “Mmmm…so good.  Thanks, though… for the offer, I mean.  And for the coffee.”

            “You’re welcome Dean.”

            Dean was feeling so warm and content standing in the shop, with the smell of coffee and cinnamon surrounding him, and Cas smiling at him, and everything was just so _easy_ again that Dean decided to push forward before he had a chance to overthink things some more.  He took another fortifying sip of his coffee and then cleared his throat.  “Hey, uh, Cas?  Can I ask you a personal question?”

            Cas frowned.  “Of course, Dean.”

            Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  Cas was staring at him so intently, giving Dean his undivided attention.  “Um, well, I don’t want to sound like a dick, but I heard a rumor and I wanted to clear it up with you.”

            “Alright.”

            Dean sighed, mentally berating himself to just man up and ask the damn question.  “Well, uh, someone told me that you’re gay.”

            Cas shrugged.  “Yes, I am.”  Then, cocking his head slightly, “Is that going to be a problem?” 

            Dean’s heart was beating wildly but he rushed to assure Cas, saying “Uh, no.  No man, of course not.  I just wanted to know if it was true.  I didn’t want people spreading rumors about you… like—ya know, like last time.”

            Cas chuckled and turned away slightly to wipe down the counter.  “Ironically enough, Dean, it seems the rumor mill in this town is strangely accurate.”  He shot Dean a glance, a simple, fleeting glance, and in that look Dean knew that Cas wasn’t convinced.  He felt like Cas could somehow _see_ Dean’s inner turmoil.  Cas lowered his eyes and cleared his throat.  “Do you think…umm… is this rumor going to cause problems for me here?”  He flashed his eyes up quickly to meet Dean’s and then darted them back down again.  Dean was hit with the sudden realization that Cas was worried.  About _this_ , of all things.  His shoulders had tightened—just enough that the casual observer might not notice—and his downturned eyes screamed fragility.  Dean was suddenly very angry at everyone in the town who couldn’t leave well enough alone; angry at whoever had given Cas reason to act this way, angry at himself for making such a big deal about it.

            Dean reached across the counter and rested his hand on Cas’s shoulder.  “Hey.  Look at me.”  Cas raised his wide blue eyes.  “It’s not gonna be a problem, Cas.  People are just… it’s just gossip.”  His stomach clenched uncomfortably.  “Has someone—has someone given you a hard time about this?”

            Cas shrugged but he didn’t turn his eyes away.  “Not here.  But in the past my…. Well.  It’s caused problems elsewhere.  My family, they…”  Cas’s throat worked for a moment and Dean couldn’t tell whether he was trying not to be sick or to push down scathing words.

            “ _What did they do_?”  Dean was startled by the venomous growl—even more so when he realized it had come from him.  It seemed to have momentarily shocked Castiel as well because the other man straightened and said calmly “They disowned me.”

            Rage boiled in Dean’s belly. “ _This_ is the reason they disowned you?”  Cas nodded.  “Of all of the…”  Dean shook his head.  He squeezed Cas’s shoulder tighter.  “You know what man?  Fuck ‘em.  Like I said before: their loss.  You’re better off here anyway, with people who care about you.”

            Cas’s eyes softened and he raised his hand to cover Dean’s.  “Dean….”

            Suddenly a sharp intake of breath caught Dean’s attention and he turned his head.  The Women’s Club were all staring, hands covering mouths and hearts, and Elsie cooed “Oh honey, that was _beautiful_.”  Dean shuddered.  _Why_ did being around Cas always make him forget he had an audience?

            He pulled his hand back slowly and he shivered at the faint slide of Cas’s fingers against his as he withdrew, but he stuck to his mantra: don’t overthink it!  And he flashed Cas an easy grin, saying “Thanks again for the coffee, Cas.  See ya tomorrow.”  Their eyes met again for a moment, and warmth surged through Dean.  Why had Dean let this issue bother him so much in the first place?  After all—he meant everything he just said.

 

* * *

 

           

 

            On Halloween, Castiel kept the shop open late.  After Evan had carved all of the jack-o-lanterns for the windows, Castiel had painted a small sign that announced that his shop would be participating in trick-or-treating, if parents wished to bring their children by. 

            Oak Street was eerie once the sun went down: Castiel wasn’t the only shop-owner who’d elected to decorate for the holiday.  Leering, glowing faces shone from multiple windows up and down the road.  Leaves blew down the street on the chill breeze.  Squeals and cackling laughter sounded from outside along with the occasional chorus of “TRICK-OR-TREAT!”

            Castiel was handing out chocolates and warm apple cider to anyone who walked in through his door, and he was pleased to see that ended up being more people than he’d even hoped for.  “It’s because you’re a witch,” Evan had confided when he’d dragged his mother into the shop.

            It was the first time Castiel had officially met Keeley Neustadt.  They’d shared a wave when they passed each other on the street, but they’d never had a conversation, and in fact Castiel had been nervous to meet the mother of the boy who spent so much time in Castiel’s shop—the boy he’d become quite fond of. 

            When she’d taken her first step in through the door, she looked around, eyes taking in the character of the place where her son recently spent so much of his time.  Before the introductions, Evan had pulled his mother over to the bay windows and pointed out his handiwork, speaking loudly to be heard above the din of patrons and revelers.  “I carved these, mom!  What d’ya think?”

            Mrs. Neustadt’s voice was tired, almost reedy, but she smiled down at her son and told him that they were excellent.  “Very spooky,” and that he should be proud of himself.  Then she’d raised her eyes to meet Castiel’s.  He could sense, even from the considerable distance between them, her hesitancy in approaching him.  But Evan dragged her along to the counter behind him and her feet shuffled forward reluctantly.  The boy grinned up at Castiel: his hair was mussed and he had made-up smudges all over his face and fake fur glued to some beat-up clothes.  “Hi Castiel!  The shop looks really good!  Guess what I am.”

            Castiel feigned deliberation for a moment before frowning down at Evan.  “Hmmm… a cat?  No, no… a fox?”

            Evan rolled his eyes and huffed.  “I’m a werewolf.  I thought it was obvious.”

            Castiel finally grinned back at the boy.  “A werewolf?  My mistake.”  He reached over the counter and offered his hand to the woman. “Mrs. Neustadt, I’m Castiel Novak.”

            Her trepidation was rolling off her in waves but it didn’t stop her from reaching out and clasping Castiel’s hand in her own.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Castiel.  And please, call me Keeley.”  She looked down at her son and ruffled his hair.  “Evan’s told me all about you.”  Her gaze was fond and a small smile graced her lips when she returned her attention to Castiel.  “Thank you for allowing Evan to spend time here.  He likes it here and he’s very fond of you.”

            Evan jerked out from underneath his mom’s hand and gave her a wide-eyed, indignant look.  “Mooom!  You’re not supposed to go around saying stuff like that!  Geez.”  He avoided Castiel’s gaze, but Castiel could still see the blush rising in the boy’s cheeks.

            He couldn’t help but chuckle.  “It’s a pleasure having him here.  He’s very good company and he likes to help out.” 

            Evan glared up at his mother, crossing his arms.  “See?  I told you.”

            Castiel pushed some chocolate across the counter.  “Here you go, Evan.  Can I get you both some cider?”

            They accepted graciously and Castiel was satisfied that some of Keeley’s anxiety about him seemed to have faded by the time they left his shop with a chorus of “Happy Halloween!”

 

 

 

            Dean loved Halloween.  It had been one of his favorite holidays growing up.  Candy, pranks, staying up late, getting to dress up like something totally awesome… what was there not to love?  He remembered holding Sammy’s hand when they were kids, walking with him up to every house and watching as Sam called for tricks and treats.  After he’d gotten his prize and given polite thanks, he’d always rushed back to Dean’s side to excitedly show off whatever new treats he’d gotten.  Dean felt a smile quirk his lips at the memory.  It had been years since Dean had gone trick-or-treating.  Sammy had long since outgrown the tradition and Jo not long after him.  He’d gone to parties in his teenage years for the candy, booze, and chicks, but he’d since outgrown that too.  For the last five years, this is what Dean had done: roamed the streets, keeping an eye on his people, making sure that everyone was safe and having fun and that none of the local teenagers were defacing city hall or whatever.  He still remembered his first Halloween on the force when he’d caught Andy red-handed, throwing around a roll of toilet paper in the parking lot.  Putting cuffs on the kid and hauling him into the station was still one of the sweetest moments of Dean’s career.  But that was years ago, back when Andy at least held some sort of respect for Dean’s title.  _That_ _had been short lived_ , Dean thought with a snort.

            It was a clear but chilly night, perfect for hours of gallivanting around in the dark.  The air was full of shrieks and giggles and children were busy dashing up and down the streets.  It had been a long day, but Dean didn’t mind.  He rubbed his hands together to fight off the cold and made his way across the street to the brightly lit shop with the pumpkins in the windows.

            When Dean pushed inside the shop, he took one look at Cas and snorted, rolling his eyes.  The man stood behind the counter, blue eyes smiling, and he waved Dean over.  Dean sauntered up to the counter and reached out, flicking the wide brim of the black, pointy hat that was perched jauntily atop Cas’s messy head of hair.  “Cas—what is this?”

            Cas scrunched up his nose and gave Dean a toothy grin.  “I’m a witch, Dean.  Isn’t it obvious?”  He held his arms wide for Dean’s inspection and Dean couldn’t help chuckling again.  Cas was dressed like every other day with the exception of the pointy hat.

            Dean rolled his eyes again.  “Oh yeah, it’s obvious.  Don’t know how I ever missed it.  You’re very witchy, Cas.”

            Cas actually _winked_ at him and quipped, “And don’t forget it.”

            A laugh burst out unwillingly.  “Oh, so is that how it’s going to be, then?”

            Cas gave a curt nod.  “It is.”  He waved his hands vaguely in Dean’s direction.  “And what are you supposed to be?”

            Dean leaned across the counter so that he was crowding into _Castiel’s_ space for a change and murmured “I’m an Officer of the Law.  You should show me some respect.”  When he pulled back, Cas’s eyes were wide and he licked his lips nervously.

            “That…uh… that was good.  Very authoritative.”  He stammered.

            Dean smirked.  “And I haven’t even pulled out the cuffs yet.”

            Cas’s mouth dropped open and then he turned away quickly but not before Dean could see a blush rising in his cheeks.  Cas fiddled with some containers behind the counter for a moment before he finally risked meeting Dean’s gaze again.  With an impressively straight face, Cas asked “Would you like some cider, Dean?”

            When Dean left the shop a couple minutes later, clutching a warm cup of spiced cider, he felt inordinately proud of himself.  And, sporting a smug grin, he completely ignored the little voice in the back of his head that whispered “ _That was exactly what Jo has been talking about._ ”

 

 

[](http://s1362.photobucket.com/user/muliasz/media/happy_halloween__witchy_cas__by_beginte-d6si19i_zpsa535ed2a.png.html)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful artwork in this chapter was provide by Beginte! You can find it at her deviantart page here: http://beginte.deviantart.com/art/Happy-Halloween-witchy-Cas-410667750


	8. Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of this story is fluff. This chapter is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Depiction of drowning.

 

 

            It was mid-November and the cold front hit them like a hammer.  The storm came out of nowhere, dumping two feet of snow, freezing the river, and bursting pipes all over town.

 

 

            On Tuesday morning, Castiel lurched out of bed, clawing at his throat and gasping for air.  When his feet hit the cold floor he was jerked to full-consciousness and, panting, pulse fluttering in his veins, he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

            He threw himself into a scalding shower, desperate to shake the chill that had worked its way into his bones.  He stood under the spray until the hot water ran out.

            He wrapped himself in a thick woolen sweater and stood gazing out of his bedroom window as the sun slowly rose over the town.  Snow and ice glistened in the morning light and Castiel shivered.

            He made himself a hot cup of tea but couldn’t manage to choke down any breakfast.  Even the warm weight of Nox, curled in his lap, didn’t help to shake his unease.

            The unrelenting weight of dread had settled on Castiel’s chest and was slowly pressing the air out of him.  He couldn’t get a breath.

 

 

 

            The sky was flat, steel-gray.  Snow piled in drifts against the door of the shop.  Castiel did what he could to shovel it away and clear the sidewalk but he rushed through the motions, desperate to get back inside, where he rubbed ineffectively at his arms to try to warm them. 

            Shortly after Castiel flipped the sign on the door, he got a call from Andy saying that he wouldn’t be able to make it in to work because the pipes in his mother’s house had burst and he was trying to get someone in to fix them.  Castiel assured him that it was no problem.  “Take care of your mother, Andy.  I will probably end up closing the store early today anyway.”

            “Is everything alright there?”

            “Yes, it’s just…”  Castiel ignored the slide of cold dread down his spine. “the weather.”

 

 

            It was indeed a very slow morning.  Several of the other shops along Oak Street had opted to remain closed for the day.  Castiel would have done, if it wasn’t for the nagging feeling that he needed to be present.  Just in case. 

He couldn’t seem to get warm.

 

 

           Near mid-day Castiel felt a new wave of uneasiness crawl over his skin.  He promptly made himself a mug of chamomile tea to try to diffuse the tension thrumming through his body.  His legs were trembling so he leaned against the counter and bowed his head, taking deep, steading breaths.  He clutched the mug in his hands, trying to leach the warmth from the ceramic, but he still felt cold.  Suddenly his body was racked by uncontrollable shivers.  The mug slipped from his hands and shattered at his feet.  Castiel squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the counter so hard his knuckles turned white.  His legs felt weak.  He couldn't stop the shaking.

          As suddenly as it had started, the shivers stopped.  Castiel took a deep, steadying breath.  He knelt and began to pick up the broken shards of ceramic.

 

 

            The store was empty and Castiel was considering closing when Dean showed up at 3:05.  Castiel focused on him with a tired smile that faded abruptly when he realized that Dean’s eyes were methodically surveying the shop.  He approached the counter with long, purposeful strides and met Castiel’s eyes squarely.  “Cas.  Have you seen Evan today?”

            “No, Dean.  He hasn’t been in.  Why?  Has something…?”  An icy finger dragged down Castiel’s spine.  “Dean, what’s wrong?”

            Dean dragged a hand over his face and looked at Cas with worried eyes.  “He’s missing.  His mother called it in about an hour ago and we’ve all been out looking, but no one else has seen him either.”  He shook his head.  “I was hoping maybe he was with you.”

            Ice settled in Castiel’s stomach.  “Dean.  Do you trust me?”

            Dean’s stance went rigid and his eyes narrowed, suspiciously.  He looked Castiel over for a moment, eyes meeting in a tense stare, before his shoulders sagged and he sighed, looking away.  “Yeah, Cas.”  There was an uncomfortable pause before Dean finally met his eyes again.  “What’s up?”

            “I need you to go to Evan’s house.  Get Keeley to give you something that belongs to Evan.  The closer the better.”

            “Closer?  Cas, man, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  What things?  Why?”

            Castiel shrugged—it was an awkward, feigned calm.  “Hair, toe-nails, a baby tooth.  Something that is undeniably Evan’s.”  Dean’s face scrunched up in disgust and Castiel huffed, impatient.  “Clothes, if Keeley doesn’t have any of the other things I’ve listed.”

            “Yeah, okay, Cas, I get it.  What I don’t understand is _what the hell for_?  If I show up at the Neustadt’s house asking for bits of Evan’s hair, Keeley’s gonna flip her shit.”

            “Dean.”

            “I trust you man, ok, I do.  But Keeley?  You gotta give me something to tell her, man.”

            “ _Dean._ ”  The other man focused on him again.  “I need it to perform a locator spell.  I’m going to help you find Evan.”

            A moment later and Dean was out the door with instructions to return quickly and let himself into the apartment when he arrived.

            Fear had settled like a stone in Castiel’s stomach but he pushed it aside as he made his way into his bedroom.  He shooed Nox out of the room and shut the door in order to concentrate.  He knelt next to his trunk, opened it with a squeak of hinges, and began to arrange his supplies.

            Since moving to Willowsbend, Castiel had had little use for magic outside of his daily routine and a few simple protection spells he’d created for himself and for new friends.  But this… what he was about to do was going to take an immense amount of focus and energy and Castiel found himself praying that he could follow through on whatever needed to be done.

           

* * *

 

 

            Dean took Castiel’s stairs two at a time.  He’d carried out his task as quickly as possible and still couldn’t believe the fact that the ice on the road had held him up longer than Keeley Neustadt had.  She’d been crying and pacing frantically in the front room of her house when Dean arrived on her doorstep.  When he’d explained what he was looking for and why, she’d gone to her bedroom and returned with a lock of Evan’s baby hair, saying that if Castiel could find her baby, she didn’t care how he did it.

            When Dean entered Castiel’s apartment, a large black cat darted toward him, meowing, and tried to curl itself around one of Dean’s legs.  Dean brushed him off  and made his way to Castiel’s bedroom.  He pushed the door open and froze on the threshold, all of the hairs on his arms and neck suddenly standing on end.  Castiel stood silently in the middle of the room, eyes closed, arms held out to his sides.  The air itself felt electrified.  When Cas finally turned toward him and pinned him with his wide blue stare, Dean’s breath caught in his throat.  For just a moment, _power_ looked back at Dean: raw, fierce, unbridled.  But then Castiel blinked and it was shuttered away.  “Dean, did you get what I need?”

            Dean took a tentative step toward the other man and held out his hand.  Cas took the offering and sighed in relief when it touched his palm.  “Good.  You’re positive this is his?”

            “Keeley gave it to me.  It’s Evan’s first lock.”Cas gave one curt nod and as he retracted his hand, Dean noticed strange sigils painted in black up the insides of both of Castiel’s wrists and forearms.

            Dean cleared his throat.  “Uh, Cas… what, uh, what are you gonna do?”

            Cas leveled Dean with a calm look.  “I need to perform the spell now.  I understand if this makes you uneasy.  You can stay or wait outside the door.”

            “I’ll stay.”  Dean decided, mind whirling with a mix of concern and curiosity.

            “Alright.  I need to concentrate.”  Dean understood that it was no less than a command for silence and he moved to the side so that he could see what was happening but wouldn’t be in the way. 

            Castiel reached forward and grabbed a stack of paper from the trunk that held his supplies.  He unfolded it quickly and laid it on the ground at his feet.  It was a map of Willowsbend and the surrounding county.  Dean furrowed his brows but didn’t comment.  Next, Castiel withdrew a knife and calmly cut a line into his left palm.  Blood welled immediately.  Dean had to forcibly tamp down on his urge to take a step toward the other man when he realized that Castiel was about to perform blood magic—dangerous, dirty magic.  But he trusted Cas—he did—so he kept his peace and watched as Castiel folded Evan’s hair into his bloody hand, held it above the map, and began murmuring under his breath words that Dean didn’t understand.  Castiel squeezed his fist and suddenly it felt like all of the air was being squeezed from Dean’s lungs.  He had one short moment of panic before a drop of blood fell from Cas’s hand and splashed on the map.  The moment the blood made contact, Castiel sagged and the air rushed back into the room.  Castiel knelt to retrieve the map then held it out to Dean with a shaking hand.  “ _Here_ , Dean.  Evan is _here_.”

            Dean glanced down at the map and felt like a fist had just closed around his heart.  The single drop of blood had landed smack in the middle of the blue jagged line that ran the length of the map.  “God…Cas, _he’s at the river_!”

            Cas’s head snapped up in alarm.  He pushed himself to his feet and followed Dean as he dashed out of the room.  “Cas, do you know—is he…?”

            Cas shook his head.  “I don’t know Dean.”

            Dean ducked inside the driver’s side door of the department SUV and frowned when Cas climbed in on the other side.  “What are you doing?”

            Cas gave him a tired, but determined stare.  “I’m coming with you.”  He slumped back into the seat and pulled his seatbelt on, closing his eyes in obvious exhaustion.  Dean flicked one last concerned glance at him before he buckled his own seatbelt and took off toward the bridge.

 

 

 

            They both threw their doors open the second the vehicle was stopped.  Castiel had apparently gotten his wind back during the tense and silent drive because he darted around to the front of the SUV to meet Dean.  “I’ll search this side, Cas, you search that side.  Holler if you find him!” 

            With that they parted ways and Dean took off along the river bank, slogging through snow and mud, calling out Evan’s name every few seconds.  Nothing.  The air was too still beyond his own ragged breathing, the squelching noises under his boots, and the occasional echo of Cas also calling the boy’s name.  Dean was frantic, heart pounding in his chest.  He’d been worried since the call came in, wary when Cas said he was going to use his witch mojo to find the boy, and utterly horrified when he’d seen the innocuous drop of blood on the map.  Now they were here and there was no sign of Evan.

            Maybe Castiel was mistaken?  Maybe the magic went wrong somewhere?  Maybe…. Dean’s thoughts were cut short when Cas shouted “DEAN!  I’VE FOUND HIM!  CALL AN AMBULANCE!”  Dean pulled his phone out, calling the station as he ran.  His breath huffed out of him, puffs of vapor in the freezing air.  Dean burst through the trees on the other side of the bridge and he felt his heart lodge in his throat.  Castiel was walking on the ice.

            On the other side of the river, Dean could see a huddled mass that could only be Evan, lying half-sprawled on the ice.  The surface all around him was cracked and jagged.  Dean raced to the river’s edge and had barely put one foot onto the ice when it popped and cracked underneath him.  He jerked back immediately, afraid of upsetting the thin layer of ice.  The world seemed to slow then, sounds faded out, and all Dean could hear was his own breaths and heart beat as his eyes fixed on Cas and he realized that Cas was using magic to walk across the river to the boy.

            Dean realized he was holding his breath and sucked in a lungful of freezing air when Castiel finally reached Evan.  Cas knelt and placed his hands on the boy for a moment, doing _something_ to him—he was too far away for Dean to see clearly—and then slowly and carefully, he pulled Evan into his arms and stood.

            It felt like ages as Cas slowly made his way back over the ice, one foot deliberately, cautiously in front of the other.  Thankfully Dean could hear the faint wailing of sirens in the distance.  Castiel was halfway across the expanse of ice when he stopped, shuddering, and gripped Evan tighter to his chest.  His eyes fluttered closed and Dean could see that he was struggling to get a breath.  A moment later, Castiel opened his eyes and set his jaw, resolved.  His legs were wobbling as he took a couple more steps.  “Dean…” He gasped.  “Dean, take Evan.  Take him. I’m losing my grip.” 

            Dean reached out as far as he could and Castiel stretched his quivering arms out to Dean and deposited Evan into his waiting arms.  The boy was cold, unmoving.  Dean’s heart jumped with panic.  “Cas, let go, I’ve got him.”  Castiel released the boy and Dean took a firm step back to make way for his friend, clutching Evan against his chest, desperate to warm him back up.  He could hear doors slamming and hurried footfalls behind him.  Dean had turned away from Cas for just a second when he heard the ominous _CRACK_ of the ice.  He glanced back, Evan in his arms, fear tightening his throat, just in time to see Cas’s eyes roll back and the ice break open underneath him.  With a sickening splash, Cas plunged into the icy river.

 

 

            Someone was shouting, pulling Evan from Dean’s arms.

            It wasn’t conscious.  The moment Evan’s weight was lifted from Dean’s arms he jumped forward into the frigid water, down, down, arms stretching, seeking frantically.  Millions of needles stabbed at him—the cold punched the air right out of his chest and it felt like someone was squeezing him in a vice.  He only had a moment, he knew, before he too would lose consciousness.  He swiped his arms through the water and there!  His fingers brushed across cloth.  He stretched out and grasped, felt a hand, and pulled Cas to him.  He clutched Cas to his chest and with a burst of strength, pushed himself and Cas to the surface.

 

            Hands grabbed at him, dragged Cas from his arms, pulled Dean out after him.  Dean collapsed on the snow, tried to crawl over to Cas where they’d laid him down but someone held him back.  A medic was already performing CPR.  Dean’s whole body was shaking.  Hands were grasping at him, voices were trying to tell him something, or maybe ask him something, but he couldn’t hear anything but white noise.  His eyes were fixed on the unmoving, unconscious man in front of him.  Someone tried pulling Dean to his feet but he shrugged them off, reached for his friend.  “Cas!”

            The medic continued compressions, puffed another breath of air into Castiel’s lungs.  Dean was acutely aware of each ragged breath he dragged in and willed Castiel to do the same.  Time passed.  Another set of compressions.  Seconds ticked by.  Another borrowed breath was forced into his lungs.  Compressions again.  Dean felt a warm, solid hand on his shoulder, comforting, consoling.  “ _No!”_ He jerked away from it, violently.    _“Dean.”_  A voice prompted and the hand was back.  Another man was shaking his head and turned away from the scene, hopeless.  But the medic didn’t stop.

 An eternity later Castiel coughed, water bubbling from his lips, and he turned his head, retching, heaving river water from his lungs.

 Finally, he took a breath.

 

 

 

            Dean was numb as they loaded Cas into the ambulance.  He climbed in after Cas and no one tried to stop him.  Evan was lying next to Cas, already hooked up to an IV and bundled in blankets.  The doors slammed shut and the ambulance took off toward the hospital.  Somewhere along the line, someone had wrapped a blanket around Dean as well.  He sat to the side and watched as the medic continued to work, stabilizing both Cas and Evan.

 Dean clutched the blanket tighter around his shoulders and shivered.


	9. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some protective Dean.

 

 

Dean hated hospitals.  Outside of the maternity ward, nothing good ever happened there.  The empty waiting room was a blessing, Dean supposed, because it meant that more of his friends and neighbors hadn’t been hurt in the storm.  But still, the emptiness meant few distractions and so Dean paced.  One of the nurses brought him a cup of coffee because he refused to leave.  Just in case the doctor came out.  Dean had already spent too much of his life haunting the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit of Lawrence County Hospital, and he couldn’t sit still.  He was afraid that if he did, the memories would swamp him: memories of Sammy crying and clinging to him, of Ellen trying to be brave when she told him what was happening, of the fear of what news the doctor would bring when he finally emerged from behind the white double doors.  So he paced.  It was nearing 10:00 now and visiting hours had since ended, but no one had tried to kick Dean out.  If they did, he was going to play the police card.  He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

 

 

When the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, the medical team had rushed Cas and Evan into the ER and Dean had finally been pulled away from them by a stern looking nurse who told him that hovering while the doctors were working would do more harm than good.  Then another nurse, a woman named Missouri, shepherded Dean into an examination room and began poking and prodding him, taking his blood pressure and temperature, asking inane questions.  She bundled him into blankets and he assured her that he was perfectly fine and all he needed was a change of dry clothes to prove it.  She’d sighed, calling him stubborn, but she’d returned with dry hospital issue pants and shirt.  “If you insist on being foolish and won’t allow me to help you, at least get yourself something hot to drink and for God’s sake, boy, sit down and take a breath.  You jumped into a freezing river, you stubborn ass.”

Dean quirked an eyebrow at her.  “You use those honeyed words on all your patients?”

She put her hands on her solid hips and gave him a pointed look.  “No.  Just the ones who don’t know what’s good for them.”  With that, she’d strolled out of the room so he could change.

The dry clothes made a huge difference and felt so nice after wearing his stiff, frozen jeans that he didn’t even care that they were pale blue and obviously for patients.

 

 

Now Dean was pacing.  It had been hours since Cas and Evan had been wheeled away and Dean had been shut out of the proceedings.  He was staring at one of the generic paintings on the wall when Missouri finally, _finally_ appeared in the waiting room and said “They’re both settled and done with their tests for the night.  You can come see them now, since I know you won’t go home and sleep ‘til you do.”

Dean nodded grimly and followed her down the hall.  “Which room is Evan’s?”  He asked.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean tapped lightly on the door then entered cautiously.  Keeley stood next to the bed, arms wrapped tightly around herself as she looked down at her son, but she turned at the sound.  Her face crumpled when she saw him and she threw herself into his arms, her calm breaking as tears rolled from her eyes.  “Dean, thank God you found him.  My baby….” 

Dean smoothed his hand along her back to calm her and turned his eyes toward the bed.  Evan was hooked up to an IV and an oxygen mask covered his face.  “How is he?” 

Keeley pulled back and wiped her eyes.  Focused back on her son.  “He’s going to be okay.  Hypothermia and a fractured wrist.  They said he’d been in the water too long, they don’t know how he’s still….”  She couldn’t say the word, but she didn’t have to.  Dean nodded slowly.  “Dean, they didn’t tell me what happened.  How did you…?”

Dean met her eyes.  “Cas,” His voice broke on the name and he had to look away.

Keeley’s hand covered her mouth.  “Oh my God—Dean, is he… is he going to be okay?”

Dean shrugged jerkily.  “I don’t know.  They’ve just finished their tests, wouldn’t let me in before that.”

Keeley’s eyes softened and glistened with unshed tears.  “Is he the one who found my baby?”

“Yeah.”  Dean swallowed loudly.  “He’s the one who saved him, Keeley.  I couldn’t….”  Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.  “I haven’t written my report yet and I don’t want this getting out, but I think you have a right to know what happened.”

Keeley nodded slowly.

“Cas… he did some big magic, Keeley.  Things I’ve never even _heard of_ before.  He uh, he used that lock of hair you gave me to do a spell to locate Evan.  Only when we got there, Evan was out on the river, unconscious and halfway through the ice.  I tried to go to him but the ice wouldn’t hold me.  Cas… he used magic to walk across the ice to get to Evan, and he carried him back across.  But then something happened—I don’t know what—and Cas told me to take Evan.  As soon as I had him, Cas passed out and fell through….”  Keeley gasped.  “I jumped in after him but he wasn’t breathing when we got him out.  It… it took a while, but they brought him back.”

“He’s here because he saved my boy.”  Dean gave a sharp nod.  Keeley laid a comforting hand on his bicep.  “Dean, you go see how Cas is, now.  Tell him Evan is gonna be just fine,” Her voice wavered.  “And, you know… I’m praying for him.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean’s first thought was that Castiel looked so small lying in the hospital bed.  He had an IV stuck in his hand and even though the room was mostly dim, the odd fluorescent hospital lights cast a sallow pallor to his skin.  It was wrong.

He’d run into the doctor on his way from Evan’s room and the doctor had told him with a comforting smile that all of the tests came back fine.  Cas was going to be alright.  It appeared as though he was just exhausted.  He needed plenty of rest and fluids and to stay warm.  He had to stay for observation because he still hadn’t woken up yet, but everything else checked out.

Dean pulled the visitor’s chair closer to the bed so that he could get a better look at his friend.  Cas’s head was turned to the side, toward Dean, and his face was relaxed in sleep.  The blankets were tucked closely around his chest but Dean could still see the thin white fabric of the hospital gown and the feeling of wrongness squeezed him again.  Tentatively, Dean reached out and lightly stroked his fingers over the back of Cas’s hand where the IV dug into his skin.  Dean was thankful it was the only tube attached to Cas.  If there’d been more, if he’d been wired up to machines like Evan…. Dean closed his eyes and reminded himself to breathe.

 _I almost lost Cas._ The thought floated into his mind with all the delicacy of an A-bomb.  Dean clenched his eyes tightly shut and grit his teeth against the truth.  He still didn’t know all that’d happened at the river—he’d have to wait for Cas to wake up to fill him in—but when he’d seen Cas’s body collapse and fall through the ice, Dean had felt frozen, helpless.  Part of him was horrified by the reality of what could have happened: the Lawrence was a relatively fast-flowing river.  The current could have easily taken Cas out of his reach or they could have gotten trapped under the ice.  The other part of Dean’s brain—the larger part—refused to think about it anymore.

Dean knew there would be no rest for him.  Not until Cas woke up, and not until Cas explained to him what went wrong.  In the last 24 hours, Dean had seen him do things he’d never thought possible, hell, that he’d never had a reason to consider.  The reality of the situation was shocking.  Cas was always so nice, so calm.  He was the one who gave Dean those happy little smiles every morning along with his coffee, had baked pies and joked.  Who had no concept of personal space and always seemed to cause Dean to say awkward things.  But that afternoon, Dean had seen a different side of Cas.  He’d been reminded, forcefully, that this man that had wormed his way into Dean’s life and become his best friend somewhere along the way, was also a very powerful witch.

After seeing what Cas was capable of, he had mixed feelings as he thought back to Cas’s arrival in Willowsbend.  On one side, he better understood the town’s hesitancy toward Cas and wondered if maybe he hadn’t been a bit naïve in their initial association.  On the other hand, however, Dean knew that he’d been right.  Cas might have the ability to do scary, amazing things, but…well, he _hadn’t_ done them.  Not until someone he cared about, a child, was in danger.  And that, Dean decided, was the point.

Dean opened his eyes finally, after his breathing had relaxed.  “Cas, you dumb son of a bitch.”  Dean leaned forward and gently brushed a stray piece of hair out of his eyes.  “Hurry up and get better, man.”  Dean leaned back in his chair, folded his arms, and settled in for a long wait.

 

 

 

Some time later, Dean was jerked out of sleep by the slide of warm fingers brushing his arm and a croaking voice murmuring his name.  Cas dropped his hand back to the bed when Dean jolted forward. “Cas!”  Cas’s eyes were open, but tired still, drooping with exhaustion.  His face was still too pale.  He licked his lips and whispered “Evan?”

Dean felt a rush of relief and leaned forward into Cas’s space, eyes flitting over his face.  “He’s gonna be fine, Cas.  He’s sleeping just down the hall.”

Cas nodded tiredly.  “Good.”

“Hey man, how are you feelin’?  You’ve been out for a while.”

Cas winced and scrunched his eyes like he was taking stock.  “Exhausted.  My whole body hurts.”  Dean nodded understandingly and rose to retrieve the water from the bedside table.  He brought it back to Cas and held the cup so that his friend could take a drink from the straw without having to sit all the way up.  After he’d swallowed half the water, Cas sighed and lay back again, murmuring “Thank you, Dean.”  Dean nodded silently, not meeting Cas’s eyes.  “Let me go and get the nurse, alright?”

Cas shook his head slightly.  “No, Dean.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  Please stay?”

“Sure, Cas.”  Dean settled back down in his chair again.  They were quiet for a while; Cas had closed his eyes again, but then he blinked at Dean and sighed.  Dean cleared his throat.  “You wanna tell me what happened out there?”

Cas shrugged heavily.  “I drained myself.”

“You drained yourself.”  Dean narrowed his eyes.  “What does that mean?”

“I performed three very powerful spells in a very short amount of time.  It was enough to drain anyone.”

“Three?”

Cas gave a short nod.  “Mmhmm. I had to use blood magic… for the locator spell,” Cas sighed.  “That’s naturally draining.  And then, the river….  I couldn’t get to him, Dean.  It took… it took a lot to do what I did to get to him.”  Cas closed his eyes and just breathed for a moment.  “And then when I got to him…. Dean, he wasn’t going to make it.”

Dean thought back to what he’d seen, suddenly able to make sense of things.  “You healed him.”

“I gave him everything I had left.  His heart was so weak… he’d been in the water too long.”  Dean pressed his lips tight together, desperately holding back the words that were struggling up his throat.  “And then I just… I was losing my grip on the ice spell.  I couldn’t hold on any longer.”

Dean launched himself at Cas, pulled him into a tight embrace before the other man could react.  “You stupid.”  Dean hissed.  He placed a rough kiss to Cas’s forehead and held on tight, not caring enough to hold back anymore.  “You scared the hell out of me, man.”

Cas was stiff, startled for a moment.  Then he relaxed against Dean and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder.  “What happened?” He murmured.

Dean’s throat was tight.  “You fell.”  He whispered.  “You went under.”

Cas pulled back enough so that their eyes met.  He cocked his head, eyebrows scrunching. The truth must have been all over Dean’s face.  Cas’s eyes widened.  “You pulled me out.”  It wasn’t a question.

Dean tipped their foreheads together, clutched the back of Cas’s neck.  Took a deep, calming breath.  “Yeah, Cas.”

 

* * *

 

 

The black sedan pulled up to Lawrence County Hospital promptly at 8 am. 

Jo and Victor made their way through the quiet halls of the hospital and rode the elevator up to the third floor.  Victor stood in the middle of the elevator, tense, pinching the bridge of his nose to keep his headache at bay.  Jo made a note to stop for coffee on their way out.  They strode meaningfully toward the ICU front desk; the nurse on duty quickly waved them through.

Even in this unit, sounds were muted and the halls were empty except for a couple tired-looking nurses tapping at the computers in their stations.  Room 308—Evan’s—was at the end of the hall.  Victor’s brisk steps tapped against the white tiles, echoed in the quiet space.  Jo felt like she was floating—news of the accident had knocked her a bit sideways.  Now she had an uncomfortable itch underneath her skin.  They’d almost lost a little boy to what—neglect?  It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, thank God.  But it couldn’t happen again.  She’d told Victor as much in the silence of the car this morning.  He’d given a sharp nod, the slight tightening of his eyes the only indication that he was at all bothered by the situation.

Her eyes scanned over the doors as they walked by, catching glimpses of patient names, taking in the steady beeping sounds coming from open doors.  They were halfway down the hall when Jo glanced into one of the rooms and jerked to a stop, took a step back.  Victor stopped, glanced back at her.  “What is it?”

She shook her head, memorized the scene she’d stumbled upon, then caught up with Victor.  She wasn’t sure what to make of what she’d seen:  Castiel, lying in the hospital bed.  And Dean, slouched forward, head resting on his folded arms on the side of the bed, also sleeping. 

Jo shook her head, pushed the image away for later, and followed Victor into Evan’s room.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean woke up when an incredulous voice said “Boy, you’re _still_ here?”  He lifted his head to see the nurse from the night before, Missouri, standing in the door to Cas’s room, hands on her hips, an unimpressed look on her face.  She shook her head.  “Stubborn, just like I said.”  Cas was now blinking awake also, and she came over to start on his morning charts.

“How are you feeling this morning, sweetie?”  She asked as she jotted down numbers.

Cas shrugged.  “Better.”

Dean frowned.  “How come he’s ‘sweetie’ and I’m a ‘stubborn ass’?”

Missouri leveled him with a stare.  Dean shifted uncomfortably then averted his eyes.

A few minutes later, Missouri said “Alright, Castiel, everything is looking good.  We’ll get some breakfast into you and if you still feel alright after that, we’ll start processing your release forms.  Sound good?”

Cas nodded.  “Yes.  Thank you.”  He gave her a tired smile, which she returned, before bustling out the door.

Dean rolled his eyes and hid his smile when two trays of breakfast were delivered twenty minutes later.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean was sure that Cas would have argued more if he wasn’t so tired.  Dean unashamedly took advantage of the situation to snuff Cas’s protests before they could even really get started, saying “Look Cas, you’ve got exactly two options here.  Either you come to my place or I come to yours.  Which is it gonna be?”

Cas had rolled his eyes, grumbling, as Dean helped him into the back of the police cruiser and then joined Garth in the front seat.  “Thanks for coming to pick us up, man.”  Dean said, finally relaxing into the seat.

Garth shot him a friendly grin before pulling away from the curb.  “No problemo, Dean.”  Garth glanced in the rearview mirror and then raised his voice.  “Hey Castiel, we heard what you did—us at the station, I mean.  I just wanted to say thank you.”

Cas smiled before he tipped his head back and his eyes slid shut again.

 

 

 

A short while later, Dean had finally settled Castiel into his bed against futile protests—“I’m fine, Dean.  I have to feed Nox.  My room is a mess.  You don’t have to do this.”—Dean ignored him and carried on.  He made Castiel change into sleep clothes and get into bed.  Then he brought him a glass of water which he sat at Cas’s bedside.  “Shut up, Cas.  Get some rest.  Just because they released you doesn’t mean you’re 100% yet, man.”  Cas opened his mouth to argue and Dean pointed sternly at him.  “No arguing.  I’ll feed your cat.  Then I’m gonna run home real quick and change.  Then I’ll be back.”

“Dean, there’s really no need…”

Dean glared at him.  “You almost got yourself killed.  Your arguments are invalid.”  Dean wandered over to the window to pull the blinds closed.  “Now—sleep.  I’ll be back soon.”  Then he pulled the door shut.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean made his way quickly through the dark, empty coffee shop after he’d finished feeding Nox.  He bounded through the door—anxious to do what he had to do and then return—and almost ran into Ellen, who was standing right outside the shop.  Her stare was unnerving.  “How is he?”

Dean took a step back then let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  “Alright, I guess.  He’s sleeping right now.”  Then, “How did you even know?”

Ellen rolled her eyes.  “How do you think?”  Dean had to fight back a groan.  Of course.  The Harvelle women knew everything that went on in this town.  Ellen bit her lip and shot a glance up to the apartment windows.  “I heard what he did for Evan.”  Dean nodded silently. “Is he gonna be alright?”

“Yeah, Ellen.  Cas is gonna be alright.  I’m gonna stay with him for the day though, just to make sure.”

She nodded absently.  “Good.  That’s good.”  Her throat worked convulsively for a minute before she turned shining eyes back to Dean.  “It was almost really bad, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well.”  They were quiet again, not looking at each other as they stood in front of the shop.  Finally, Ellen cleared her throat.  “I better get back.  The Roadhouse isn’t gonna run itself.”

“Sure, Ellen.”

“You take care of yourself, Dean Winchester.”  Dean gave a sharp nod.  “And tell Cas he’s invited to Sunday dinner.”  Dean frowned in confusion at Ellen’s back as she walked away.  Then he shrugged, too tired to wonder what the hell had just happened, and made his way home to change.

 


	10. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. Life happened, and sometimes work sucks. I hope you enjoy regardless.

 

 

      Castiel loved Dean’s home.  The old farmhouse had housed five generations of Winchesters.  It was a large, rambling thing—two stories and an attic—and it was obvious that it had been added to over the years to suit the needs of the family.  The outside was painted white with slate trim, and it stood out, bright, amongst the rich greenery of trees and grass.  It was an old house and it had its quirks, but Dean kept it in good repair.

      From the first moment Castiel had stepped inside, he’d felt at home.  The place had an aura of comfort—Dean kept the place tidy but it still looked lived in.  His dishes from the morning were stacked in his sink.  His leather jacket and a plaid over-shirt both hung by the front door.  Car magazines and a lone beer bottle were spread across the coffee table.  Dean’s boots sat just inside the door.  On that first visit, Castiel had hesitantly slipped his own shoes off and placed them next to Dean’s.  The sight had left him smiling.

      It was warm inside, a haven against the late November chill.  Castiel took a seat on the patched, chocolate brown couch while he waited for Dean to finish up in the kitchen.  The couch was worn, old, comfortable.  He allowed himself to sink back into it.  He turned his face into the side cushions, inhaled.  It smelled like Dean.

      A moment later, the other man returned, carrying a box of pizza in one hand, and two bottles of beer in the other.  “Here ya go, man.”  He said, handing one of the ice cold beers to Cas.  Dean set the pizza down on the coffee table then settled on the couch next to Castiel.  “Help yourself.”  He opened the box and pulled out a large, gooey slice for himself, covered in pepperoni and dripping cheese.  Castiel snagged his own piece, careful not to drip grease onto either his clothes or the couch.  He couldn’t stop the low moan that escaped his throat the first bite—it was Heaven—but he didn’t miss Dean freezing in the middle of taking his own bite, eyes going wide.  Castiel swallowed his pizza, fighting a blush, and murmured, “Uh, sorry about that.  I guess I was hungrier than I thought.” 

      Dean cleared his throat and said “Yeah… um, no worries, Cas.”  Castiel watched Dean’s throat work as he swallowed.  “I’m glad you like it.”  Dean turned to face him then and it should have been awkward, the intense staring, but it wasn’t.  It never had been with Dean.  “So, which movie do you want to watch first?  Die Hard or Terminator?”

      Castiel rolled his eyes.  “Are those my only options?”

      Dean grinned.  “Yep.”

      “Die Hard, then.  At least I like Bruce Willis.”

      Dean’s jaw dropped.  “You’re _this close_ to losing cool points, you know?”  Dean got up to put the first DVD into the console.  “And just for that, we’re gonna have a separate marathon another time so you have the opportunity to change your mind about Arnold.”

      Dean turned the lights down before he resettled on the couch and they both got comfortable for the movie.

      Things had been easy like this, casual, ever since the accident nearly two weeks before.  Dean had stayed with Castiel that first day and forced him to rest and eat soup and drink hot tea.  And he’d even fed and cuddled Nox (who seemed to have a strange fascination with Dean) even though Dean was allergic to cats.  Since then, Dean hadn’t even bothered trying to hide his bossy, surprisingly nurturing nature.  But Castiel kept his grumbles to a minimum and accepted the coddling because he realized that it was Dean’s way of showing that he cared.  And after the events of the hospital, Castiel was, thankfully, aware enough to realize that he’d seriously worried Dean.  If caring for Castiel made him feel better, Castiel was resigned to let Dean have his way.  Besides, if the situation were reversed, he knew he would likely be just as bad.

      Dean hadn’t stayed with Castiel since the day after he’d been released from the hospital, but he made a habit of stopping by the shop for longer visits and this was the second time within a week that Dean had invited him over to “hang out.”  Not that Castiel minded at all.  In fact, he couldn’t recall a time he’d been this comfortable being with another person.

 

 

 

      After the first Die Hard movie ended, Dean put in The Lost Boys—apparently another favorite from his youth—because he said that Die Hard II sucked too much to make Cas suffer through it.  Castiel couldn’t honestly care less what they were watching.  He was content to drift in his own thoughts while the scenes of the movie played out in front of him.

      He’d been flattered when Ellen had invited him for family dinner, but he was honest enough to admit he was a bit terrified as well.  He had tried to decline the offer graciously, saying he didn’t want to put Ellen Harvelle out, but Dean had laughed, slapped him on the back, and said “Yeah, _you_ can tell her that if you plan on getting out of this.”

      And so he’d wound up at the Harvelle house that Sunday for dinner with the family, who that week included Ellen, Jo, Bobby Singer, and Dean (since Sam was still at school).  Aside from some friendly banter and some invasive questioning, Castiel had made it through dinner unscathed and with his stomach happily satisfied.  Ellen had made a lasagna.  Ellen made sure to inform him before the night was over that Sunday dinner was a standing invitation and she expected him to show.  Apparently, that was the end of _that_ discussion.

      Castiel wouldn’t dream of crossing that woman.  Plus, Dean had seemed so happy when he’d driven Castiel back to his apartment, all shy grins and smiling green eyes.  If attending Sunday dinner always had _that_ effect, well, then Castiel was happy to oblige.

 

 

 

      Castiel wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep—perhaps sometime during the third movie—but he woke with a start in the dim light of the room when something heavy shifted against him and a porno-worthy groan echoed in the room.  His eyes flew open and he tried to push himself upright, but he realized he was mostly pinned to the couch.  Apparently Dean had also fallen asleep during the movie and tipped sideways into Castiel.  They both seemed to have sunk down into the couch in sleep.  Now Castiel found himself in a strange half-sitting, half-lying position with the warm weight of Dean sprawled over him.  Castiel fought to control his breathing and think of what he should do when Dean shifted again, pressing against Castiel and pulling him tight against his chest.  He buried his face against Castiel’s neck and huffed out a breath, then another, lower moan.  The effect was instantaneous.  The warm breath ghosting over his skin paired that that sound had him half-hard and embarrassed within seconds and he wasn’t sure what the right move was supposed to be, here.  Should he wake Dean?  Ignore him?  Pretend that he hadn’t heard those delicious sounds?

      His position was becoming increasingly uncomfortable so he attempted to shift sideways and pull himself from under Dean’s weight.  He didn’t get very far though.  Dean’s arms wrapped tight around his waist and pulled him close again when he attempted to extricate himself from Dean’s hold.  Castiel released a steady breath, afraid to wake Dean and face whatever awkwardness that would bring.  So he allowed himself to slump back and think of another way to solve the problem.  He was debating whether it might work to slide sideways and replace his body with a pillow when Dean nuzzled his nose into Castiel’s collarbone and whispered “Cas.”

      Castiel froze, eyes wide, heart hammering.  When Dean neither moved nor continued, Castiel realized that his friend was indeed still sleeping.  The situation was awkward and arousing and still… so comfortable and nice.  Castiel didn’t allow himself to think overly much on what kind of person this made him, before he settled back against the cushions, took a calming breath, and closed his own eyes.


	11. Playing It Cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy! Comments are always appreciated!

 

 

   Dean woke up, comfortable and warm, with his face pressed into something soft that smelled good, sort of like cinnamon and something else, something like…. He blinked his eyes open, glanced down, and had to fight back a groan.  _Be cool, just be cool,_ he coached himself, but it was hard to stay calm when all he really wanted to do was freak the fuck out because he’d passed out on his couch, sometime during movie night, and he’d subsequently sprawled all over Cas, who was lying underneath him and looked so damn good in his sleep.  He was soft and warm and smelled fantastic and that was the problem, right there.  Because Dean was lying on top of his friend, and he didn’t know how to make this not-awkward, especially since he was pretty sure he’d been moaning the guy’s name in his sleep, because he’d had another one of _those dreams_ of Cas, again.

   The dreams were bad enough, and had started almost right after he’d met the guy, steadily growing worse as time went on.  They were bad because they were so damn good.  They left him hard and aching when he woke up in the morning, and he always felt slightly guilty about his actions when he dealt with his arousal in the shower before dressing for work, especially because he always stopped into the shop to grab a coffee and see Cas right after.  It was hard enough to look the guy in the eye over a cup of coffee, knowing what he’d dreamt about the night before, and play it cool.  But this?  This was just pure torture.  To wake up pressed delightfully against the star of his dreams and to realize, like he’d imagined, that _goddamn,_ it was so much better in real life.  But he didn’t want to freak Cas out, was determined NOT to make it weird, especially since Dean was just starting to make peace with the fact that some of the hottest sex dreams to ever float through his mind featured his very male friend.

   Dean wondered if Cas was aware of their sleeping arrangement or if he’d passed out around the same time, and this would be a terrible shock for him when he woke up.  But Dean was determined not to make it worse.  Cas looked so relaxed, so at ease in his sleep.  So, Dean slowly untangled his limbs from Cas’s, pulling the other man’s arms from around his waist where they’d lain, and pulled himself off of Cas.  As he pulled away, Cas’s face scrunched up comically and he made a disgruntled sound, but flopped over and buried his face in the couch.  Ok, so far so good.

   Dean retreated to his bedroom as fast as he could to do something about his hair and brush his teeth, and no, he was NOT primping, even though a voice that sounded suspiciously like Andy chuckled in the back of his mind and said _“Sure, keep telling yourself that, princess.”_   Dean splashed water on his face and gave his cheeks a few slaps, just to get the blood flowing back where it was supposed to be, then cautiously made his way back downstairs to the kitchen.  One peek into the living room showed that Cas was still fast asleep so Dean put a pot of coffee on and fired up the stove, determined to be prepared with a peace offering to ease the inevitable awkwardness once Cas rejoined the land of the living.

   The bacon was already plated and Dean was halfway through pancakes when he heard a soft groan from the living room followed shortly by the thump of feet hitting the floor.  His breath caught in his throat but he kept his back turned to the doorway, wanting to keep things casual for as long as he could.  Despite the craziness of the situation and the rampant thoughts charging through his head and the maybe-not-so-much denial he’d been fighting for weeks—Dean didn’t want to fuck this up and upset Cas.  He didn’t know what he’d do if Cas suddenly didn’t want to spend time with him anymore.  So he waited, shoulders tense, with baited breath, until he heard the shuffling of Cas’s bare feet on the kitchen tile…slowly approaching… until he felt the weight of Cas’s presence near his shoulder and a tired, gruff, _oh god so sexy_ voice, murmur “Good morning, Dean,” right in his ear.  Dean dared a quick peek over his shoulder in time to see Cas leaning closer.  “Pancakes?  Dean, this smells heavenly.”

   Dean cleared his throat.  Okay, so breakfast was working to his advantage.  “Mornin’ Cas.  Uh… if you wanna sit, I’ll bring this over in just a sec.  Coffee’s done, by the way.  Not as good as yours, but… well.”  Cas murmured his thanks and did as Dean bid, retrieving a chipped orange coffee mug from the drainer and filling it before taking a seat at the slightly scarred kitchen table.  Dean glanced back again and felt his cheeks flood with heat when Cas’s eyes fluttered shut as he took a sip of the brew and moaned his thanks.  God, was this what Cas looked like every morning?  Dean had a feeling his dreams were about to get a hell of a lot worse.

   Dean was an officer of the law.  He’d dealt with criminals and intensive field training, and frankly, lots of weird shit, and he faced it head-on without flinching. Generally, Dean considered himself a badass. Still, he could only ask Cas his next question because he had his back turned and it wasn’t _cowardly_ so much as motivated by a keen sense of self-preservation.  “So, uh… sleep good?”  He wanted to shove his fist in his mouth as soon as the words slipped out.

   He could hear the grin in Cas’s voice, though, as the other man hummed, deliberating for a moment before saying “I slept quite well, thank you.  And yourself?”

   He was so NOT blushing.  “Um.  Good.  Yeah, good.”  He flipped the remaining pancakes onto the plate and turned to set one each on the table for him and Cas.   Cas met his eyes with a smile as he picked up his fork.

   “Thank you, Dean.  I don’t know if I’ve told you this, but I’m a sucker for pancakes.”  He took bite of them, slathered in butter with a hint of syrup, and moaned low, _obscenely,_ in the back of his throat… all while keeping his eyes fixed on Dean.  _Jesus,_ Dean thought, as all the blood in his body migrated sharply back downward, _Cas is gonna be the fucking death of me._

 

* * *

 

 

   Dean was still warm and content from his morning with Cas when Sam called later that day.  “Hey Dean, I’m just calling about Thanksgiving.”

   Dean frowned slightly while he washed dishes at the sink, the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear.  “You’re still coming, right?”

   “Of course I am.  I just wanted to let you know that I’m also going to be… uh… bringing someone.”

   Dean stopped his scrubbing.  “Really?”  He drawled.  He wiped his hands on a towel then pulled the phone away from his shoulder, giving it a wary look before asking “And does this someone have a name?”

   He could hear Sam’s breath give a nervous stutter.  Good.  “Ruby.”

   “Your not-girlfriend Ruby?”

   “Yeah.  Look, it’s not a big deal.  Just, she had nowhere else to go for the holiday and so I invited her to our place.”

   “Okay….”

   “But there’s something you need to know about Ruby before you meet her, because I don’t want you to freak out and go all COPS on her, alright?”

   “Well, now you’ve guaranteed that I will.”  He could practically feel Sam’s bitchface through the phone.  “What is it?”

   “She’s actually kind of… a witch.”

   “I thought you said she’s a lawyer!”

   “She’s both, Dean.  Jesus.”

   “Fucking really, Sam?”

   He can hear his brother’s tired huff.  “Don’t be like that, Dean.  I thought of anyone you’d understand.  Since you and Cas are, ya know….”

   Dean’s heart stopped.  “Are what, Sam?”

   “…Friends.”

   “Uh huh.”

   “Come on, Dean, why don’t you practice a little bit of that tolerance that you preach?  Ruby’s a good person.  Why don’t you at least give her a shot?”

   Dean groaned, knowing that Sam, bitch though he is, was right.  “Fine.  I’ll play nice.  But seriously, Sam?  What made you think a long holiday weekend was the best time to introduce her to the family?”

   Sam snorted.  “Aside from what I’ve already said?  Frankly, I didn’t feel like playing third wheel the whole freaking day.”

   Dean frowned into the phone.  “What are you talking about?”  Dean snapped.

   Dean could tell by the tone of his voice that Sam was giving him his patient face when he said, slowly “Well, you’re bringing Cas, aren’t you?”

   Dean decided to ignore the implications of that statement, again—really Sam, how many times in one conversation?—and replied “Yeah, well, Ellen expects it.  She practically said the guy’s family now.”

   “Uh huh.  Denial much, Dean?”

   “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?  She’s the one who invited him to family dinner every Sunday!”

   Sam snickered “Did it really never occur to you that she’s willing to consider him family because you already do?”  Dean’s jaw dropped.  Before he could bite back a response, Sam said “See you on Wednesday.”  Then the little bitch hung up.

 

* * *

 

 

   Monday, during his lunch break, Dean strolled into _Delecto,_ marched right up to the counter and pointed at Cas.  “You’re bringing green beans.”

   Cas frowned at him.  “What?”

   Dean shrugged and glanced around the shop.  “Hey, don’t give me that look, man, it’s not _my_ idea.  I’d have you bring pie or something.  But Ellen’s the boss and she said you’re bringing green beans.”

   Cas’s frown deepened.  “Dean… what are you talking about?”

   Dean huffed, totally put out.  “Thanksgiving, dude… this Thursday, you know?”

    “I am aware of the day, Dean.  I just… wasn’t aware I was invited.”

   “Invited?  Cas… invitations are for strangers and awkward co-workers who you only pretend to like.  At this point, you fit into the category of people that we all just assume will be there.”

   Cas was still frowning at him, so Dean pushed on.  “Come on, man, don’t back out now, Jo and Ellen and Bobby will be there, and Sam’s even bringing some new girl who’s not-a-girlfriend.  You gotta come.”

   Cas huffed.  “I appreciate the sentiment Dean, but I don’t understand your insistence. I am not a relative nor a new not-a-whatever.  I wouldn’t want to impose.  Holidays are for family.”

   Dean’s eyes softened, unwillingly, and he suddenly became aware of Cas’s hesitation, of how unsure he was.  He wasn’t just being stubborn.  So Dean reached across the counter, laid his hand over Cas’s, and said “Hey man, look at me.”  Cas’s deep blue eyes, always so sweet, but now clouded with confusion, finally met his.  And Dean murmured “Cas, man—you are family now.  I thought you knew that?”  They stared at eachother for a long moment, seconds, minutes, years… before Dean realized he was still kind of holding Cas’s hand, so he pulled back.  Shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them out of trouble.  Cleared his throat.  “So.”

   Cas jerked back to reality and coughed, obviously trying to relieve the tension.  He began fiddling with the coffee mugs behind the counter.  “So.  Um… any particular kind of green beans?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to know what else I'm up to, you can find my tumblr here: http://realhunterswearplaid.tumblr.com/


	12. Thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story. I love you all! Also, sorry for how late this chapter is. Life happened.

 

   The introductions went something like this: “Hey, Sammy, how was the drive?  Weather didn’t give you any trouble did it?  And who is this beautiful lady?  You must be…”

   “Ruby.”  Accompanied by a hand shoved into Dean’s personal space.  Dean had taken it warily, shaking gently, when the dainty little hand gripped his tighter than he’d imagined the rather short woman could manage.  “And you must be Dean…you’re not as tall as I thought you’d be.”  She’d glanced at Sam for a moment, then back.  “Sam says you’re a cop.  You don’t look like one, though.”

   “Uh…”  Dean looked to Sam for some sort of cue but Sam just shrugged, apparently just as helpless as him.  Ruby rolled right over them both, though, as she pushed Dean aside to make her way into the house.

   “Got anything to eat around here?”

 

 

   By the time Dean laid down in the comfort of his own bed that Wednesday night, he’d determined two things: First—Dean didn’t care what Sam said, Ruby was some kind of Hell beast.  Second—she apparently wore the pants in that relationship.  Dean didn’t know whether to laugh at his poor idiot of a brother, or take serious pity on him. 

   Throughout the night, Ruby had commandeered conversations, rolling her eyes at Dean’s attempts at chivalry, or flat-out ignoring him when he said something she apparently didn’t care about.  The ONLY reason Dean didn’t boot her back out into the cold November dusk was because most of the time she redirected the conversations back to Sam, and grudgingly or not, Dean could deal with that.  He would say this for the devil woman: she obviously cared about his brother.  Still, Dean was man enough to admit that he was at least slightly relieved that Sam and Ruby were sleeping in different rooms.  This way, he wouldn’t have to lay awake all night, tossing and turning, trying his best to avoid thinking about all the things they could possibly be getting up to.  Ugh.

   Instead, Dean was finding it hard to get some sleep for another reason.  The dreams had been getting worse…or better, depending on how Dean decided to think about them.  It was bad enough to have kinky dreams featuring the blue-eyed man who, somewhere along the way, had become his best friend; having to look Cas in the eyes every morning and pretend that he hadn’t jerked off to thoughts of him in the shower that morning made things so much more awkward.  And to make matters worse: tomorrow afternoon Dean’s family was gathering at the house for Thanksgiving, and now, apparently, that included Cas.  How was Dean supposed to continue playing this _thing_ of theirs off as innocent friendship when Dean was both nervous and excited to have Cas with him during a family holiday?  Whenever Dean allowed himself a moment of honesty, he could admit to himself, at least within the space of his own head, that he was completely and totally fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

   Ruby wasn’t a morning person.  She growled at Dean when he offered the olive branch of a gruff “Mornin’.”  She stopped just inside the threshold of the kitchen and glared blearily at nothing in particular.  “There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”  Dean offered before he returned to his task of making pancakes.

   “Oh thank God.”  Ruby muttered, before stomping across the kitchen to pour herself a cup.  Dean waited for her to take a sip before asking “Sleep well?”  To which she drawled “Not yet, Winchester.  I need at least two cups before I’m ready to pretend to be friendly.”  That was Dean’s cue to shut up.  Buuuut…. “Ever been to Willowsbend before?”

   “Oh my God, will you shut it?”

   Dean chuckled under his breath.  “Not a chance.  My coffee, my kitchen.”  He flashed Ruby a grin over his shoulder.  “So, let’s get to know each other better.”

 

 

   In the end, Dean and Ruby did _not_ ending up sharing and caring.  They were both saved from this sadomasochistic attempt at conversation by Sam’s Sasquatch ass stumbling into the kitchen and inquiring about bacon.  Good thing, too, because despite Dean’s cavalier attitude, he had a feeling that talking to Ruby before her morning coffee would have been more painful for him than her.

   After a mostly silent breakfast of pancakes and bacon, Sam offered to wash the dishes and then the three of them returned to their rooms to get ready for the day.  Dean most definitely _did not_ take longer than usual in selecting his jeans and his favorite charcoal Henley.

   This wasn’t the Winchesters’ first Thanksgiving, not by a long shot.  Despite not having parents for a large chunk of their teenage years, Ellen and Bobby had always made sure that they had birthdays and holidays and did stupid kid things.  It’s just that their holidays weren’t always… traditional.  They had the food down because after all, Ellen was a great cook and she liked to feed the people she loved.  But they didn’t have any special holiday traditions like most families (as Dean had been led to believe through watching years of cheesy holiday specials). They didn’t watch the freaking parade, or football (because honestly, Dean hated football) and on at least two previous occasions they’d all just gotten drunk and watched Lord of the Rings.  So yeah… not exactly any established Thanksgiving rituals outside of the food.  That had always been good enough for Dean, though.  But now?  Now Cas was gonna be there, and considering that he didn’t even have a family of his own to celebrate with anymore, Dean didn’t want this to be a disappointment to him.  The realization that he cared that much scared the hell out of him.

 

* * *

 

 

   At 9:53 Ellen and Jo showed up toting a huge turkey, a sack of potatoes, and three pumpkin pies that already had Dean drooling.  Ellen gave him a hug as soon as he opened the door and then Jo ambled in after her, stopping to pat him on the cheek and ask “Your boyfriend here yet?”

   Dean rolled his eyes and smacked her hand away but then his stomach tightened uncomfortably when Ruby poked her head around the corner and with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, enquired “Boyfriend?  Sam never said you’re gay.”

   Dean had a sharp retort ready but luckily his giant brother swooped into the room right behind Ruby and said “Jo’s talking about our friend Cas.  She’s just giving Dean a hard time.”

   Ruby smiled lovingly up at Sam.  “And is Cas going to be here today?”

   Sam met Dean’s eyes briefly and Dean gave a short nod.  “Yeah,” Sam grinned.  “You’ll get to meet him.  He’s a really great guy.”

   “Yeah, alright, enough with the touchy feely.  Don’t we have some cooking to start?”

 

 

   Dean was wondering whether it would be considered cowardly to abandon his own kitchen and hide out somewhere else in the house when he was saved from that particular dilemma with the arrival of Bobby shortly after 11:00.  He knocked once on the door before strolling in and Dean had never been more grateful in his life to utter the words “You’re early.”

   Bobby had only snorted and said “Yeah, well, had nothing else to do at home, and I figured you idjits might need saving.  Haven’t burnt the house down yet, though, so that’s a start.”  Then he shoved a couple plastic bags into Dean’s hands, explaining “I brought beer.  It’s that fancy kind you like—from that brewery a couple towns over.”  Dean didn’t bother hiding his smile.

   “Thanks Bobby.  I’ll go put this in the fridge.”  Dean peeked into the kitchen, took a deep breath, and walked as fast as he could to the fridge, hoping to go unnoticed.  Jo and Ruby both smirked at him as he beat a hasty retreat.  He caught Bobby in the doorway before he could wander in and said “I’m doing you a favor man—don’t go in there.  They’re rabid today.”

   Bobby snorted.  “Sam’s friend here?”  At Dean’s grimace he guessed “In there?”  Then pushed past Dean and entered the kitchen to meet Ruby.

 

 

   Dean had honestly thought it was going to be a problem: Ruby being a witch.  Considering the frigid welcome Cas had received in town at the news, Dean had thought that he and Sam would be running interference with Ellen and Jo the whole morning.  That most certainly wasn’t the case, though.  Dean wasn’t sure if being around Cas had softened their opinions on witches or whether they all shared an immediate bond through their love of sarcasm and harassing Dean.  Regardless, Ruby and Jo had spent a good deal of the morning huddled together whispering and laughing and as far as Dean was concerned, that could never mean anything good.  Ellen had given her an assessing look, but it was more of the “Hurt my boy and I’ll bury you,” look than anything else.  And Bobby, well, he’d apparently appreciated her waspish attitude and welcomed her with open arms.  In fact, Dean was pretty sure Bobby thought she was hilarious and Dean felt a slight twinge of betrayal when Ruby smirked at him over Bobby’s shoulder.

 

* * *

 

 

 

   They were in the middle of a conversation about property law when Ruby went ramrod straight and her eyes widened in apparent fear.  She clutched at Sam’s shirtsleeve, twisting the fabric between her fingers and she hissed “There’s someone here.”

   Everyone went silent at Ruby’s declaration and that’s when they heard the crunching of tires out front, followed shortly by the sound of car doors slamming shut, and then a moment later a hesitant knock at the door.  Dean shot Ruby a wary look before going into the foyer.  When he pulled the front door open, Cas was standing there in black slacks and a thick blue sweater that matched his eyes.  He smiled shyly up at Dean from under his dark lashes and held out a glass casserole dish brimming with green beans.  “Um… happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”

   Dean grinned, Ruby forgotten, and took the dish from Cas’s hands and pulled the other man inside.  “Happy Thanksgiving, Cas.  You’re just in time to save me, too.”

   Cas’s brows furrowed adorably in confusion.  Dean slung an arm around his shoulders and led him to the kitchen to deposit the green beans.  “Save you?”

   “Mmm.  Yep.”  When they walked through the door, Dean was jerked to a halt when Cas threw an arm out and slammed his palm against Dean’s chest.  Dean’s eyes widened, wondering just what in the hell was happening, but then Cas took a step in front of Dean and Dean could see that across the room, Ruby was shrugging Sam’s hand off of her own shoulder as she too prowled forward, eyes narrowing dangerously.  Dean could feel the air spark with electricity and his chest tightened like all the air was being sucked out of the room.

   “Who are you?”  Cas growled and _damn,_ Dean had never heard THAT tone out of Cas before.  Dean laid a hand on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, and murmured “Hey man, it’s cool—that’s Ruby, Sam’s friend I told you about.”

   Cas flicked a sideways glance at Dean before murmuring “Are you aware she is a witch?”

   “Yeah, Cas, we all know.”  Dean soothed.  Finally, after a moment of tense staring, Cas’s shoulders relaxed and he took a minute step back towards Dean.

   “In that case,” Cas tilted his head slightly toward Ruby, “I apologize.”  Then he glanced awkwardly at Dean as he shuffled his feet.  “You must have forgotten to inform me,” He murmured, pink coloring his cheeks. 

   Dean was just starting to feel like a jerk when Ruby huffed out a breath and exclaimed “Holy shit!  Is this the boyfriend?”  She glanced back at Sam and he gave a sort of awkward half-shrug.  She finally relaxed her own stance and crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow.  “Well, good thing.  I _really_ didn’t want to have to fight him.”

   Sam frowned.  “Why would you have to fight Cas?” 

   “Are you kidding me?  I could _feel_ this guy coming.  He’s a live wire and he lights the place up like the Fourth of July.”  At this point, Cas took the green beans from Dean’s hands and busied himself with sitting them near the stove, so that he could turn his back on all of the confused stares.

   Dean frowned and looked between Cas and Ruby before crossing his own arms.  “Meaning what, exactly?”

   Cas’s shoulders stiffened when Ruby snorted.  “Meaning this guy’s got a hell of a lot more mojo than I do.  Damn.”

   It was Bobby, surprisingly enough, who chuckled and said “Yeah, well, we all know Cas is a tough son of a bitch, don’t we son?”

   Cas turned finally, and flashed Bobby a small, thankful smile.  “Yes, sir.”  That, finally, broke the remaining tension in the room and Ellen swooped down on Cas, giving him a tight hug and thanking him for the green beans.  Dean hadn’t even realized his hands were clenched until he finally relaxed them.

 

* * *

 

 

   Standing on the back porch with Cas and a beer each was not hiding, no matter what Jo said.  It was part of the Thanksgiving festivities. 

   Every time Dean thought that he had Cas figured out, he seemed to have the rug tugged out from under his feet again.  It was strange: Dean had seen Cas do big magic before.  He’d seen Cas walk across a frozen river and save a little boy by pulling him back from death’s clutches.  It had filled Dean with a sense of awe, but at the time, that feeling had quickly been over-run with worry and fussing over his friend.  Dean thought he’d had a grasp on what it meant that Cas was a witch.  Most of the time, it didn’t even seem significant in Dean’s observations of daily life.  Cas was a sweet guy, friendly, who owned the local coffee shop and now, more often than not, starred in Dean’s dreams.  But seeing the interaction between Cas and Ruby had unsettled him yet again.

   It wasn’t that Dean was afraid of Cas.  He knew that he maybe should be, at least a little, but he just couldn’t make himself feel that way.  He allowed himself to believe that he knew Cas well enough at this point that he had no reason to feel wary of his friend.  But last time Dean had seen Cas use his magic, it had been a desperate act to protect the life of a child.  This was the first time Cas had seemed dangerous, almost feral.  Dean had felt the energy rolling off of Cas’s skin, surrounding him, smothering the air in the room.  And he’d obviously scared the hell out of Ruby.  Knowing that another witch found Cas to be a threat was a bit shocking.  What made it okay, what allowed Dean to stand next to his friend and sip beer calmly, was that Dean understood why it had happened.  It had been a stupid mistake, Dean realized, not to tell Cas that Ruby was a witch.  Dean had honestly meant to.  But the fact remained: when Cas realized Ruby was in the room, he moved _in front of Dean_ , protective.  And in that sense, it wasn’t so different from what he’d done for Evan.  As far as Dean had seen, Cas had only ever called up his magic when he’d been trying to protect people he cared about.  And knowing that Cas had reacted that way _for him,_ well, that was humbling.  And it gave Dean a soft, warm feeling in his chest.  Not to mention, it had been hot.  A little frightening when Cas’s voice had dropped so low and he’d stalked toward Ruby like a predator, but sexy as hell nonetheless.  Now Dean couldn’t shake that thrill he’d felt.  Didn’t know if he even wanted to.  Cas hadn’t mentioned it since they’d left the kitchen, and Dean knew by the flush of his cheeks that he was still a bit embarrassed over what had happened, and how Ruby had kept staring at him even after they’d all settled.  Dean wanted to be annoyed with Ruby for her continued scrutiny of Cas, for making _Dean’s guest,_ Dean’s _best friend_ uncomfortable in Dean’s home, but in all honesty, Dean couldn’t be mad at her.  After all, even with the strange tension in the room, Dean had noticed how Ruby had also stepped in front of Sam, protective.  It annoyed Dean more, almost, that he couldn’t help but kind of like Ruby now because of it.

   They didn’t talk much.  That was one thing that Dean was really growing to love about spending time with Cas.  They could just… be.  Dean didn’t have to worry about what to say or do because things were always so damn easy with Cas.  Now they stood comfortably, shoulder to shoulder on the porch, drinking their beers and looking out at the light dusting of snow that covered the yard.

 

* * *

 

 

   For dinner, they all crowded around the dining room table that used to belong to Mary Winchester.  Bowls and platters of food spread across the center of the table after they’d been passed, haphazardly, around so that everyone could fill their plates.  Bobby and Ellen presided over the ends of the table.  On one side Sam and Ruby were sitting close enough to touch even though there was plenty of extra space.  And on the other side, Dean was crowded awkwardly between Jo and Cas.  The food was awesome, like always.  And Dean definitely ate too much, though he still managed to cram in two pieces of pie before the night was over.  Dean had watched, amused, as Cas, who was normally a rather dainty eater, had shoveled mashed potatoes into his mouth and moaned in near ecstasy.  He’d praised Ellen and Dean was pretty sure the sounds Cas was making nearly made her blush.

   Conversation was light and friendly, even teasing.  Jo continued to badger Dean about Cas, despite the way he tried to kick her under the table, so he’d given her his sweetest grin and asked “So what is Victor doing today?”  Which worked to shut her up, finally.  Most of the conversation was aimed toward Sam and Ruby, and their plans after law school.  Ruby told everyone that she was going to defend Supernatural clients since so many got screwed by the legal system.  Cas had actually grinned at her then.  Sam had simultaneously blushed and beamed with pride while Ruby spoke of her goals and Dean had to admit that his brother looked happy.  All of these little details were bringing Dean to the uncomfortable realization that he might just have to get used to Ruby, damn it.  Bobby and Dean discussed work and how quiet things had been since Evan’s accident, thankfully.  If the worst thing Dean had to deal with during the day was stray dogs then that was a good thing.  That was awesome.  Despite having worked to become a police officer, Dean didn’t _like_ dealing with the darker side of life.  He just acknowledged that someone had to do it, and he happened to be particularly adept at dealing with it.

 

* * *

 

 

   After everyone was done eating and the leftovers had been put away and the dishes washed by Dean and Sam, everyone settled in the living room to watch “The Holiday”, of all things.  Jo had brought it—Dean was pretty sure she’d done it just to be an asshole.  He’d immediately vetoed the movie and plucked “Alien” from the shelf.  Bobby had agreed with Dean but they’d been steam-rolled by Jo, Ruby, Sam, and Cas, all of whom _just loved_ that movie.  Dean was pretty sure, once he was squeezed on the sofa between Cas and Ellen, that the whole damn thing had been a set-up.  But he’d sat through the whole damn movie: he wasn’t about to be out-manned by fucking _Jo_ after-all.  He was just uncomfortable for about two hours, and distinctly aware, throughout the whole film, of Cas’s thigh pressed against his own, and just how _close_ Cas’s hand was resting, almost as if Dean could just reach out…. When the movie was over, Dean breathed a sigh of relief and leapt off the couch like he’d been burned.

 

* * *

 

 

   The sky was dark and the air cold enough to see their breath by the time Dean walked Cas out to his car.  Their shoulders bumped comfortingly as they came to stand in front of Cas’s Civic.  Dean rocked back and forth on his feet for a moment, trying desperately to ignore the curl of tension in his belly as he met Cas’s wide blue eyes.  “Thanks for coming today, Cas.  It…uh,” Dean swiped a hand over the back of his neck and forced an easy-looking smile “It meant a lot.” 

   They’d been dancing around this for a while now; Dean was pretty sure they both knew it.  But it was okay—he’d been okay with their strange friendship.  Okay with the insinuations of all of his friends.  Okay with Cas always being there, in his space, in his thoughts, in his dreams.  And now, as Dean swallowed thickly and pulled Cas in for a tight hug and buried his face in the warm skin of Cas’s neck, he thought to himself, _this is okay.  I am allowed to have this._ Cas was soft and warm, and smelled like pumpkin pie.  Cas didn’t pull away, so Dean didn’t make any move to let go either.  They simply held each other in the darkness of the front yard, taking comfort in each other’s presence. 

   Cas pulled back slowly, finally, his hands sliding down Dean’s back and around his hips to rest there solidly, fingers curled softly into the fabric of Dean’s shirt.  Then he leaned forward and ever so lightly, brushed his lips in a soft caress across Dean’s cheek.  “Thank you for today, Dean,” His breath ghosted warmly over Dean’s skin and Dean shivered.  Then Cas pulled his arms loose and walked back to his car before Dean could process or react to what he’d just done.

   When Cas’s tail-lights disappeared into the darkness at the end of the lane, Dean reached up and brushed his fingers across his cheek and he didn’t even try to hide the giant smile he wore when he returned to the house.

 


	13. Snow Globe

 

 

     On December 1, Becky decorated the office.  If Dean was being honest, he’d say it looked like Frosty the Snowman puked all over everything.  Fluffy bits of fake snow had been stapled to walls and thrown on desks, along with what Dean realized, with utter horror, was glitter.  He stood inside the doorway, cringing, as he took in the myriad streamers of red and green and white with gold bells hanging from every doorknob.  A mini Christmas tree sat cheerily on the front desk, fully decorated with tiny ornaments.  Deep within the office, Dean could hear yelling.  He strained his ears, still unwilling to move further into this catastrophe (honestly he was just afraid of what his desk would look like) but luckily for him, the argument spilled out into the open.  Becky came around the corner, arms folded tightly over her chest, a stubborn set to her jaw.  “You’ll just have to deal with it!”  She shouted over her shoulder at a red-faced Chief of Police.

     “Damn it, Becky!  I said you could put up _one or two things—on YOUR desk—not all of it!_ You sprinkled GLITTER for God’s sake—on everything!”

     She turned to glare at him.  “It’s supposed to bring _holiday cheer,_ you grumpy old man!”

     Bobby glowered “It’s in my beard!”

     Becky smiled sweetly at him.  “I’d say it’s an improvement.”  She huffed before stomping around her desk.  Dean couldn’t help the chuckle when he realized that Bobby was right; flecks of color sparkled from the older man’s beard. 

     Bobby met Dean’s eyes, demanding “Help me out here, boy!”

     Dean snorted.  “What do you want _me_ to do about it?”

     The older man’s face twisted into a sneer and he pointed over Dean’s head.  “Well, you better think of something, princess, ‘cause right now you’re stuck under the mistletoe.” 

     Dean jumped out from the doorway and looked up: sure enough, a sprig of the plant was hanging from the lintel.  He glanced around the office: the only people who worked here were Becky, Bobby, Garth, and one or two interns—NONE of whom he wanted to kiss.  “Ugh,” He mumbled, shaking himself.  From Bobby’s retreating back he could hear a litany of “God damn secretaries with their goddamn glitter.  Think they run this place.  What am I?”

 

 

     In the end, the only thing that ended up going was the mistletoe, and only because Becky had to kiss Garth when they’d happened to come back from lunch at the same time.  Becky had followed through like a trooper, but after, she’d pulled up a step stool and removed every cheery sprig. While Becky was on lunch break, Bobby surreptitiously tried to vacuum up the glitter.  He had little success.

 

* * *

 

 

 

     Since Thanksgiving, Dean hadn’t seen Cas for more than a few minutes at a time, and then usually just at breakfast time when Dean stopped by for his morning coffee.  And no, _Dean wasn’t hiding._ He wasn’t.  So what if Cas had kissed him—kinda?  It had been nice.  It was a good thing.  So what if nothing like that had happened since?  It wasn’t a big deal.  Didn’t mean that Cas had changed his mind or anything.  They’d both just been busy.  The holiday season meant that people were congregating in the coffee shop for their flavored lattes and hot chocolates at all hours of the day.  And to make matters worse, Cas had taken to baking his own goodies to sell, all of which smelled and tasted amazing.  So yeah, busy.  And Dean hadn’t exactly had a restful last week either.  He’d been running around dealing with the usual chaos that came with snow—fender benders and slipping accidents, and patrolling to make sure people didn’t lose their minds in the post-Thanksgiving shopping craze.

 

     Earlier that day, he’d gotten a call about a haunting over at the Smiths’ farm.  He’d shown up ready to placate them and recommend an exterminator for the rats he was sure he would find, and was even in the middle of his spiel when the gauzy image of a drab looking woman had floated through the room.  The words had died a swift, strangled death in his throat and Dean wasn’t ashamed to say he’d nearly bolted.

     Yeah, he was the officer assigned to the Supernatural Unit of the force but seriously?  This was his first real ghost.  He wasn’t sure which freaked him out more: that a near-transparent woman was drifting unconcernedly through the Smith house (which until recently, apparently HADN’T been haunted) or the fact that one of his cases was actually supernatural in nature.

 

     It had definitely taken some thinking to figure out what the hell was happening, but Dave and Janey Smith had assured him they were only concerned, not overly frightened—Dean’s respect for them grew by the minute—and they simply wanted to know what the ghostly woman wanted.

     Eventually they had realized that it was neither the house nor the family that was haunted, but the beautiful antique snow globe that Janey had picked up on a recent trip into the city.  The globe, perched atop a mahogany base, gave off a simultaneously charming and melancholy air.  Within it sat a small, ramshackle little house, bordered on both sides by pine trees, everything formed in dark tones but painted with dots of white.  What might have been a depressing scene gave hope in that the creator of this work of art had painted a candle in the house’s window, a beacon for the weary.  Fake snow floated around the water, completing the scene.  It was beautiful, and Dean felt a tightening in his chest just looking at it, but he wasn’t sure why. 

     Throughout his investigation, the ghost had drifted through the living room to stand at the window, looking out, as though waiting for something, before turning back toward the globe.  Phantom fingers reached out to touch the glass, reverent—and passed through.  Then the cycle repeated until finally, the ghost had exhausted her energy and she faded from sight.

     Dean and the Smiths had watched the display, wide-eyed, afraid to move a muscle in fear of either disrupting the circuit or catching the ghost’s attention.  Finally, after she faded, Dean cleared his throat and started reeling off options for dealing with the ghost, from destroying the globe to performing a banishment on the spirit.

     Dave remained silent, a broad but apparently supportive presence at his wife’s side.  After a long moment of silence, during which Janey Smith simply stared at the snow globe, she sighed and said “And if you do this banishment, the globe will be free of the haunting?”

     Dean shrugged.  “In theory?  Yes.”

     “And where will the spirit go?”

     Dean shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.   “I, uh… I don’t know, to be honest.  Just know that usually it works.”

     Janey cast her eyes to the window, then back to the globe, before finally focusing on Dean.  “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, officer.”  Dean’s eyebrows shot up, shocked.  “It just doesn’t seem right, does it?  This globe was hers first.  And she’s not harming anything, really.”  She wrapped her arms around herself and blew out a breath.  “It makes me sad.  I don’t know what she’s waiting for, or why this globe was so important to her but maybe… maybe with some hard work, we can figure it out and help this poor woman.”  She glanced to the side at her husband.  He gave a short not and placed a hand on her shoulder.  Her eyes were resolute when she met Dean’s once more.  “And if we can’t, well, I’m sure we can learn to adjust.”

 

* * *

 

 

     Dean carried an ache in his chest when he left the Smith farm.  He couldn’t help but replay the ghost’s circuit: window to globe and back, mournful but steady—and wonder what the woman was waiting for.  Wonder who never came home.  It had been a long time since anything struck him so deeply and he couldn’t seem to move past it.  Wasn’t sure how.

     He made it through the rest of the day, but he felt like a ghost himself now.  Wandering, going through the motions, while his mind was somewhere else.  When his shift finally ended, Dean pulled on his leather jacket over his uniform, bid Garth and Becky farewell, and made his way steadily down the street toward _Delecto,_ where the windows were spilling golden light onto the snowy ground outside.

     When he pulled the door open, bell tinkling, he was hit with the scents of coffee and sugar and _baking._ His eyes went magnetically to the counter, where Cas stood, smiling, with Evan at his side.  Evan noticed him first, grinning and shouting “Officer Dean!”  He had a smudge of flour on his cheek.  Cas’s eyes were warm when they rose to meet his, mouth curling slowly into a welcoming grin.  “Hello, Dean.”

     “Hey, Cas,” Dean sighed, feeling the ball of tension in his chest slowly uncurling as he strode across the space from the door to the counter.  Each step, each breath of the sweet warm air, made his heart feel lighter.  “Hey Evan.  What are you guys up to?”  He asked, peeking over the counter. 

     Sheets of sugar cookies, shaped like trees and wreaths and snowmen, cluttered the counter, a work in progress, with tubs of colored frosting and bottles of sprinkles crammed haphazardly in the empty spaces.  “We’re decorating cookies!”  Evan chirped.  Dean looked up, felt the soft smile tugging at his lips.  Then his eyes met Cas’s—intense, concerned, like he could see inside Dean.

     His deep, rumbling voice was a balm on Dean’s heart “Dean.  Are you alright?”

     Dean sighed, shoulders slumping.  “Not really.  But I will be.”  He gave Cas a tired smile, obviously not fooling Cas’s too-knowing eyes, then turned his attention to Evan.  “Hey little man, how’s the arm healing up?” 

     Evan turned slightly so Dean could see the cast where there were random signatures and drawings (one of a cat and a dog playing) scrawled across the stiff white canvas.  “It’s good.  The doctor says I can have the cast off before Christmas.”  He flashed Dean a toothy grin. With the movement, the light caught on a necklace around Evan’s neck, a wood and silver charm with black etchings.  Dean had never seen it before.  His brows creased and he nodded toward it.  “Hey, what’s that fancy new necklace you got there?”

     Evan beamed.  “This is the protection amulet Castiel made for me.  So cool, huh?”  Dean’s eyes slid to the side where Cas was now blushing and avoiding Dean’s gaze.

     “Very cool.”  Dean murmured, watching the other man.

     “Are you gonna help us decorate cookies, officer Dean?”  Dean flashed Evan a grin of his own but hesitated until Cas raised his eyes, warm and inviting like always, before Dean said “’Course I am.  Make room, boys.”

     Standing behind the counter in the golden light of the coffee shop, with the warmth of Cas at his side was heaven.  The scent of fresh baked cookies and coffee and _Cas_ filling his lungs, and wrapping around him went a long way toward easing the ache in his chest.  And as he went through the motions of decorating cookies, globbing icing onto a snowman and piling on too many sprinkles after that—flicking a stray sprinkle at Evan, and having Cas swipe a line of green frosting across his cheek—the tension from the day drained out of him.

     At 6:00 Keeley came to pick up Evan and thanked Cas profusely for watching him.  Cas grinned easily and addressed both Keeley and Evan when he said that of course Evan was always welcome at the shop.  He ruffled Evan’s hair before the boy could go and Dean caught a glimpse of the protection charm once more before the Neustadts were out the door. 

     And finally, they were alone.

     Cas turned to Dean then, too close, less than an arm’s length away.  His big blue eyes caught the light and Dean was floored, like always, by how honest and knowing they were when Cas asked, “Are you really okay, Dean?”  Voice a low murmur.

     Everything felt right in that moment; all the emotion of the day had drained away and left him clear-headed.  The crushing sorrow of the afternoon had left him but he could remember it, knew what it felt like to miss someone so terribly.  But now it was just this: the soft lights of the coffee shop, and the warmth of Cas’s body, the comforting scent of the cookies and coffee, and the honest concern in Cas’s eyes.  Dean reached his hand out slowly, brushed a curl of hair from Cas’s forehead, allowed his hand to trail slowly down, fingers feather-light, to cup the other man’s jaw.  Cas sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering shut at the simple touch.  Dean took the half-a-step that separated them, so he could feel the warm pressure of Cas’s chest with every breath.  “Cas,”  Dean murmured.  Cas’s eyes fluttered open to fix on Dean’s, dark and nervous.  “Cas.” Dean repeated, lifting his other hand to frame Cas’s face.  “You’re a good man.”  He closed the distance easily then, without hesitation, lips warmly brushing against lips.  When Cas gasped at the contact, Dean opened his mouth slightly and swallowed it down, shifted his hands to tangle in the soft curls at the back of Cas’s head.   Cas’s hands pressed against Dean’s back, inched up over his shoulders to pull him in tighter.  After the second press of lips, still close-mouthed and rather chaste, Cas pulled back, cheeks flushed, and he licked his lips.  Dean did the same, mesmerized by the flick of pink tongue, and then pulled Cas back, slotting their mouths back together.  Cas’s lips were warm and wet, and Dean’s molded perfectly to his, so right, sliding and tugging, breaths hot and ragged between them.  When Cas parted his lips on a sigh, Dean took the invitation.

     And as they stood there, wrapped around each other, breathing each other, lips and hands conveying all that needed to be said, Dean realized that this is what he’d been missing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this. I promise that I haven't abandoned Willowsbend (nor do I intend to!) But the updates will likely be slow from here on out. The semester is starting again and I'm trying to write a MA Thesis, so yeah... Please be patient with me. I promise you won't regret it!


	14. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get into the NSFW rating here... fair warning.

      It started with a tingling in his toes.  It moved, buzzing up his legs like a low level electric current, twisting around his bones, gripping his muscles, thrumming through his blood.  Even unconscious, his fingers twitched, he mumbled.  The air in the room grew heavy and still.  His eyes fluttered frantically under the lids.  Nox lifted his head from the blanket, glowing eyes fixed on his master.  The buzzing reached his chest, and started to pulse, counter to his heartbeat. Outside, the wind picked up—it rattled the window against its frame.  It filled his head, buzzing, buzzing, frantically clawing against the walls of his mind.  His body convulsed, unconscious, fighting against the intrusion.  The bedroom door shook, the books on the shelf rattled.  Nox arched his back and hissed at the emptiness.  He choked, bile filling the back of his throat as the buzzing morphed into a high-pitched whine.  His body was vibrating now, the temperature spiking—it felt like his blood was boiling.  The feet of the bed clunked against the floorboards.  Nox leapt off the bed and crouched in the corner, yowling.   The whine turned into a screech, unearthly, and he was choking, choking, he couldn’t breathe, there was something on his chest…. Castiel sat bolt upright, his eyes flaring open, a faint blue glow in the dark of the room, and in that instant all of the shaking stopped.  He took a breath.

 

 

      The house was silent except for the hushed murmuring coming from the dimly lit bedroom.  The light of a single candle flickered, shaking shadows against the wall.  His fingers were sticky with streaks of blood.  He worked it into the dark twine, braiding his power with the strands, weaving his intent.  He’d been working for hours, but he could not stop, not yet.  Castiel drew in a deep breath, unhindered… but he could still feel the weight against his chest, the power thrumming through his veins.  It was too real to be a dream, too forceful to have been a memory.  And so he worked.  He carved and he braided, and he bled.  Until finally, finally, his work was finished.  He packed his tools away.  The sun wasn’t up yet, but it would be soon.  There was no point in trying to go back to sleep.  So instead he took a long, hot shower to ease the tension that still gripped his muscles.  And then he bandaged his hands and set his teapot on the stove to heat.  He ate some toast with apricot jam, taking his time until the teapot whistled.  He fed Nox while the tea was steeping.  Scratched him behind the ears.  He drank his tea slowly, allowed the heat to burn through him, steady him.  His bare toes curled against the floorboards… and then relaxed.  He finished his breakfast, put on his shoes, and then went downstairs to start the day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Nnnng….Caaas.”  Dean twined his fingers into Castiel’s soft hair and tugged, gently.   The other man broke off his ministrations to nip at Dean’s inner thigh.  Dean jerked but then gasped out a breath when Castiel’s hot mouth swallowed him down again.  “Oh God… fuck….”  Dean’s hips jerked up convulsively but Castiel’s firm hands held them in place while he continued his heavenly torture, head bobbing up and down in a controlled rhythm, tongue swirling around the head of Dean’s cock on every sinful upstroke._

_Dean planted his feet solidly against the bed and tightened his fingers.  His breaths were being punched out of him in breathy little pants.  “Cas….oh God, Cas, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…. CAS!”_

_Cas hummed around him and the gentle vibrations paired with one more firm stroke of Cas’s tongue had Dean spilling into the wet heat of Cas’s mouth.  The world whited out temporarily.  Eyes hazy, Dean looked down just in time to see Cas swipe his tongue across his lips to gather an escaped drop.  It was the sexiest thing Dean Winchester had ever seen in his life._

 

 

      Dean groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow to hide his eyes from the annoying blue glow of his alarm clock.  As the haze of sleep receded and his mind cleared, Dean’s eyes popped back open and he jerked himself up.  He looked around himself at the twisted blankets and the otherwise empty bed.  He dragged his hands over his face and sighed before dropping them back into his lap.  “I am so screwed.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

      Sam flicked the collar of his jacket up and hunched further into the warmth of the flannel-lined leather.  The sun wasn’t up yet, but it would be soon enough.  Normally Sam would still be curled in the warmth of his bed, enjoying the safety and familiarity of his family home, but he just couldn’t sleep.  He had too much running through his mind for that kind of relaxation, so he was hoping to drown it out with movement.  Snow glittered in the light of the streetlamps and crunched under his boots as he made his way toward the center of town. 

      Sam loved what he did—all the studying would be worth it if he could someday help bridge the distance between the human and Supernatural populations.  But sometimes it really wore him down.  And now he was just thankful that he was home.  The semester was over and he had a whole month so spend with his brother and all the other people he loved.

      The streets were quiet.  No one else was out and about yet, but Sam didn’t mind.  He let his mind wander, same as his feet.  He meandered through the side streets, soaking in the comfort of home, the security of knowing what every building was and who owned it.  His breath puffed in front of him.  He tucked his hands deeper into his pockets for warmth and he decided not to avoid his destination any longer.  He turned down the still, silent main street and made his way toward the cheery little shop with the sign labeled _Delecto._ Nothing else was open yet but Sam figured that the coffee shop, at least, would be.

      The sign on the door read “Sorry, We’re Closed” but there was a light on in the kitchen and the accent lights above the counter glowed softly.  Sam huffed out a breath and rapped his knuckles against the ice-cold glass of the door.  A moment later, Cas peeked his head out of the kitchen and then hurried over to the door.  He pulled it open and Sam was hit with a blast of warm, coffee-scented air, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel a bit like Heaven.

      “Good morning Sam, come in, it’s freezing out there.”  Cas ushered Sam into the shop and secured the door behind him.  “What brings you out so early this morning?”

      Sam shrugged sheepishly.  “Just couldn’t sleep, decided to take a walk.  I was hoping you’d be open so I could grab a cup of coffee.  Dean doesn’t even keep any in the house anymore.” Sam added, rolling his eyes.

      Cas grinned and his eyes crinkled at the edges.  “Well come and take a seat, then.  I’d be happy to make you a cup since your brother was so inconsiderate.”  Cas bustled behind the counter and flicked on another set of lights so that the café glowed, honey soft, against the darkness of the world outside.  In the light, Sam could see that the palms of Cas’s hands were bandaged and he frowned, asking “Hey man, are you okay?  What happened to your hands?”

      Cas frowned down at his own hands like he was just noticing, and then he shrugged.  “It was an accident.  I dropped a plate last night and cut myself on the glass.  I am fine, though.”  Then Cas cocked his head, easy smile back in place, and asked “Anything special you’d like?”

      Sam took Cas’s word for it and gave the man a soft, appreciative smile.  He might as well spoil himself.  Why the hell not?  “Could I get a vanilla latte?”

      “Of course.”

      Sam watched silently as Cas went about prepping the espresso machine and steaming the milk for his coffee.  Cas was humming something quietly to himself and the whole atmosphere—of Cas and this place—suddenly struck Sam and he could understand why Dean liked it so much.  Sam shifted on his stool, cleared his throat, and murmured “Actually, I was hoping we could talk, too… if that’s alright.”

      Cas finished and pushed a perfect, steaming latte across the counter.  Sam wrapped his hands around the warm porcelain and sighed, inhaling the scent.  “Of course, Sam.  You’re always welcome.  What would you like to talk about?”

      Sam looked down into his coffee and sighed.  He could still hear Ruby’s voice echoing in his mind,  just coming off the edge of shrill and panicked, _“_ _He’s a live wire and he lights the place up like the Fourth of July…. this guy’s got a hell of a lot more mojo than I do.”_ He’d shrugged it off at the time for the sake of the holiday but he’d been thinking about it ever since.  What, exactly, did it mean?

      “Can I be honest, here?”

      Cas’s eyebrows drew together and his face shifted into a worried frown—the carefree air of a moment ago evaporated.  “Please.”

      Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened at Thanksgiving and about what Ruby said.  I’m… confused, and a bit concerned.  I was hoping you’d be able to clear some things up for me.”

      Cas stiffened, obviously uncomfortable.  “Oh.”  He gave a short nod and glanced down at the counter.  “Of course.”

      Sam huffed.  “No, Cas, I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just… I want to understand.  I don’t know you that well still, and you’re close with Dean, and it was kind of a lot to take in all at once, and usually you’re so quiet and nice, but Ruby was really worried, and Ruby never loses her cool and I didn’t want to say anything and….”  Cas glanced up sharply, his eyes meeting Sam’s, and Sam’s rambling stopped abruptly.

      “You’re worried about Dean.”

      Sam’s shoulders slumped and he nodded wearily.  “Yeah.”

      “Sam… I know you and I are not exactly close, but you must believe me when I say that I would never harm your brother.”  Cas’s eyes were so earnest when Sam dared to meet them again and he felt a twinge of guilt in his belly.  Cas turned his eyes away from Sam’s, finally, and he sighed.  His voice was too quiet, too defeated sounding in the otherwise silent coffee shop.  “I won’t deny Ruby’s reaction was… warranted… especially in the case that she was not warned about me.  But I cannot help who and what I am, Sam.” 

      Sam swallowed thickly.  “After… when we were back at school, she said that you’re really powerful.”  Cas continued to stare at the counter.  “Like… really.  She said she’d never met anyone else like you.”

      Cas sighed again wearily and raised his eyes to Sam’s.  “What do you want me to say?”

      “Is it true?”

      “Yes.”

      “Do you mind… I mean… um—what exactly can you do?”

      Cas flinched and took a step back from the counter, his fingers twisting nervously in his apron.  “You must understand, Sam… power doesn’t exactly work like that.  I have my will… my intent… and the power inside me, the thing that Ruby felt….  It makes it so.”  Cas raised his eyes again, defiant this time.  “I could do many things, Sam, great and terrible alike.  The point, however, is not what I can do, but what I choose to do.  And those two things are vastly different.”

      The air in the room was tense with those final words.  Sam’s untouched latte sat between them, steadily losing its heat.  Cas continued to stare at him and Sam eventually had to look away.  He felt like they’d somehow unbalanced each other, and that hadn’t been his intention.  Yeah, he was concerned, especially considering that Dean and Cas seemed to be getting even closer, but Sam’s gut wouldn’t allow him to believe that Cas was a bad person.  He simply didn’t believe it.  He’d let his head get the better of him again, and now things were weird.  His eyes were dodging around the shop, looking for a distraction, when they finally landed on a piece of paper tacked to the back wall.  It was white, slightly torn at the right upper edge, and a brown horse, meticulously drawn in crayon, pranced across it.  Sam raised his eyebrows and pointed.  “What’s that?”

      Cas tensed but turned to look.  He glanced back at Sam, frowning.  “It’s a horse.”

      Sam sighed and fought against the urge to roll his eyes.  “Yeah.  It’s pretty good.  Who drew it?”

      Despite the tension still obvious in Cas’s stance, his eyes softened and a small smile quirked at the edge of his lips.  “Evan drew it for me.”

      It was almost funny how easily the change came over Sam.  Funny how all of the tension drained from his shoulders and he allowed himself to relax against the back of the stool.  “Evan’s a good kid.” 

      Cas smiled.  “Yes, he is.”

      Sam reached forward, wrapped his hands around the latte, and took a sip.  It was delicious.  Across the counter, Cas relaxed and started humming again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my wonderful, patient, amazing readers: Thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I apologize for the long wait and I hope the next chapter won't take as long to get done. As I've said before, the semester has started back up again and the life of a grad student is a busy one. But I love this story and I love you all and I won't be abandoning it. I hope you liked!!!
> 
> PS: From here on out, we'll be delving into that "Explicit" rating. I hope you'll appreciate it ;)


	15. Protecting You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! A new update and you guys didn't even have to wait a gazillion years. Hope you enjoy! :)

     The house was warm and the delicious scent of lasagna wrapped itself around Dean the minute he walked in.  He shut the door behind him, closing out the darkness and the cold and the day….  He was shucking his boots when Sam poked his head around the corner with a lopsided grin on his face.  “Hey Dean, glad you’re home.  I made dinner.”

     Dean didn’t both trying to stop the grin that spread across his face despite his weariness.  “What’s the occasion?”

     Sam rolled his eyes.  “Do I have to have an occasion to cook for my brother?  I missed you man.  Besides, I’m glad to be home.”

     “Fair enough.”

     The scent was twice as strong in the kitchen and Dean groaned when he saw the loaf of garlic bread cooling in a pan on the stove.  Sam chuckled as he bustled around, pulling plates out of the cabinet and choosing silverware.  “Go ahead man, sit down.”  Dean was too tired to argue and he allowed himself to collapse at the kitchen table.  A minute later Sam set a heaping plate of lasagna and bread in front of him and thunked a beer down right after.

     Dean grinned up at him as he popped the lid off.  “That’s why you’re my favorite brother, Sammy.”  He took a deep gulp of the cold beer and sighed.  When he set the bottle down he realized Sam was watching him with that concerned frown on his face.  “What?”

     “Are you okay, man?  You don’t look so hot.”

     Dean allowed his shoulders to slump and he ran his hands over his face.  “I’m just tired, Sammy.  I, uh—had trouble sleeping.”  Dean shoveled a forkful of lasagna into his mouth and moaned in pleasure.  Oh God, it was almost better than…. “Speaking of, where were you this morning?  I got up pretty early and you were already gone.”

     Sam chewed politely for a moment before saying “Yeah, I couldn’t really sleep either.  Decided to go for a walk.”

     Dean raised his eyebrows.  “At five in the morning?  Where the hell did you go?”

     Sam shrugged  “ _Delecto._ ”

     Dean almost choked on his bite of lasagna.  “What were you doing there?”

     Sam took his own delicate bite before he wiped his mouth and said “I’ve been wanting to get to know Cas better.  And If I’m being honest here, I’m even more curious about him now that you guys are all….”

     Dean quirked a brow and tore a chunk off the bread.  “All…?”

     Sam sighed and shook his head.  “You know.  Like… really into each other.  I saw you guys at Thanksgiving and the way you guys looked at each other….”

     Dean couldn’t fight the blush that spread across his cheeks so he ducked his head down instead.  But he felt a giddy fluttering in his stomach all the same at the thought of Cas staring at him in that way of his, with his honest, bright blue eyes.  He kept his eyes down and took a long gulp of beer to try to get himself under control.  The last thing he wanted was to have this discussion with Sammy.  Luck, however, was not on Dean’s side because after another moment of silence, Sam sucked in a breath and exclaimed “Oh my God, Dean!  Have you slept with Castiel?”

     Dean’s eyes bugged and his brain was flooded with the sounds and feelings from his dream the night before.  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair before he finally gathered the strength he needed to look his brother in the eyes and say “Come on, man.  That’s really not any of your business.  I mean really?  ‘S not like I hound you about Ruby, do I?”

     Sam shrugged lightly but his face was still twisted into an incredulous look and his mouth was hanging open.  “Fine, fine.  Point made.  But Dean… seriously?  I’ve just been giving you a hard time about this, really.  I never really expected you to do something about it….”

     Dean pushed away from the table slightly and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  “Yeah?  Well maybe you should have, huh?  Especially if everything you’ve been harping about is true.”

     “So are you guys like… together… or something?”

     “I don’t know if Cas would necessarily consider us ‘together’ or whatever.  I mean, it’s not like we’re official or anything.”

     “But you’ve slept with him.”

     “Jesus Sam, you got a one-track mind or what?  No, okay.  No!  I have not ‘slept’ with Cas.”

     Sam was silent for a moment, big doe eyes assessing Dean like he was trying to see inside his heart.  “But you want to.”

     Dean sighed wearily and ran his hands through his hair.  Jesus, this was the price he had to pay to have Sam back.  Frikkin girl talk.  “I dunno Sam.  I mean… before Cas I never really thought that I was into guys, ya know?  Not that it’s a big deal or anything but it’s kind of a weird change.”  Dean pointed a finger threateningly at his little brother.  “And if you repeat any of this, I swear I will bury you where no one will be able to find your body.”  He took a deep breath, held it, let it out calmly.  “There’s just something about Cas that feels… right, ya know?  Kind of like….”  Dean clamped his mouth shut hard and turned away.

     Sam’s eyes softened further and he quietly prompted “Like?”

     “Like home, damn it.”  Dean was already reaching for the beer before he could finish the thought.  “I don’t know what we are to each other or where this _thing_ is going, but for some crazy reason, Cas feels like home.  And yeah, I want that.”

     Sam gave his brother an understanding nod and after that, they finished their dinner in silence.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Oh God, Cas… oooooh God….”  Dean held both of their cocks in his hand, hot and heavy, and the friction of his rhythmic pumping and their skin sliding together had his eyes rolling back in his head.  He thumped his head back against the shower wall and struggled to swallow down the moans that were tearing their way up his throat.  The hot spray poured down upon them, spattering water drops across Dean’s face and shoulders, but the rest of his body was blocked by the solid warmth of Cas._

_“Dean.”  Cas growled, his deep voice urging Dean on faster.  They were rutting against each other, faster and harder, and Dean’s hand could barely keep up.  And the shower was hot and full of steam, and it was warm like the puff of Cas’s breath against the skin of Dean’s neck.  Then they were both coming, and Dean’s voice shouted, echoing in the small space of the shower.  And Cas leant forward and sank his teeth into the meat of Dean’s shoulder and for one blessed moment the world went blank and all that existed was pure bliss…._

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

     The cheerful tinkling of the bell made Dean smile when he pushed his way from the snowy sidewalk into the warmth of _Delecto._  Cas was behind the counter, chatting happily with Andy but he broke off the conversation to give Dean a bashful smile complete with eye-crinkles before he turned back to his employee.  Dean took a deep breath and steeled himself.  He sauntered up to the counter with his most dashing smile in place and propped his hip against the wood.  “Mornin’, Cas.” He flirted, sending Cas a wink.  Cas blushed and mumbled his own hello.  Dean shifted his attention to Andy then, saying “Andy.  Could I get a cup of coffee, man?”  Andy rolled his eyes, mumbling to himself under his breath, but he fetched Dean a to-go cup.  Dean watched his movements with a smirk on his face but finally turned back to Cas when he realized the other man had remained silent.

     He was met with Cas’s blue eyes fixed on his face with unwavering focus, like he was looking into Dean’s soul.  Dean cleared his throat.  “Uh… everything alright, Cas?”

     Cas shook himself lightly and said, “Oh, uh… yes, of course, Dean.  But how are you?  You don’t look well.”

     Dean shrugged.  “I’m just tired, Cas.  Haven’t been sleeping too well.  Nothing to be worried about, though.”

     Cas continued to stare at Dean like he wasn’t in the least bit convinced but he finally relaxed his stance when Andy pushed the coffee cup across the counter.  Dean wrapped his fingers around the warmth of the cup and sighed.  Just what he needed to get his head in the game.  Before he could move away from the counter, though, Cas said “Dean, do you have a couple minutes?  I have something I’d like to speak with you about.”

     Dean frowned at the other man but said “Sure thing, Cas.  Lead the way.”  Dean wasn’t expecting Cas to lead him upstairs to his apartment but he followed obediently, his stomach twisting itself into knots with every step he took.  Oh God, was this it?  Was Cas already tired of him?  Was he going to tell Dean that whatever they had was over?  Or…?

     Dean stood in the living room while Cas retreated to his bedroom.  He only had a moment to wonder before Cas was back, eyes nervous, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.  “What is it, Cas?  What’s wrong?”

     Cas cleared his throat and murmured “I want to give you something.  But um… I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

     “Okay….”  Dean held out his hand, palm up, ready.

     Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out a braided chain made of twine that connected on both ends to a small piece of smoothed wood that had a set of strange markings carved into it and stained another color.  He placed it in Dean’s open hand and the moment it touched, Dean felt a warm jolt of _something_ shoot through his body.  His fingers reflexively clenched around the charm.  “What is it?”  He whispered.

     Cas scuffed his shoe against the floor and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.  “It’s a uh, a protection charm.  That I made for you.  I didn’t know if you would be comfortable with it because it’s magic, but I promise it’s strictly defensive.  It’s not, um… active.  And I just want you to have it because I had a strange dream and I’ve been feeling like something… might… happen.”  He folded his arms tight in front of himself, gripping his own flesh hard enough that it looked like it hurt.  Dean furrowed his brows.

     “Hey Cas, calm down man.  It’s okay.  I’d be honored to take it.  Look.”  Dean slipped the charm into his own pocket.  “Is there anything special I need to do with it?”

     Cas sighed and his shoulders visibly slumped with relief.  “No.  Just keep it close to you.”

     “Alright.  Sure.  Can do.”  He stared at the other man for a moment, but Cas wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “Wanna tell me what all this is about?”

     Cas fidgeted and bit his lip before sighing and tipping his head back.  “I had a dream that something was coming… something bad.  Only… it felt like more than a dream.  This kind of thing, it’s happened before.  It happened the day Evan nearly drowned.”

     “Okay.  Do you know what’s coming, Cas?”

     Cas huffed out a frustrated breath.  “No.  Just that it’s not good.  And I wanted… I just wanted to make sure that you stay safe.  Promise me that you’ll be careful.”

     “Sure, Cas.  ‘Course I will.  Thanks for this.  I’ll uh… I’ll put it to good use.”  Dean flashed Cas another small grin before turning to leave.

     “Dean.”  Cas’s voice was small, calm again.  Dean turned slowly to face the other man once more.  Cas took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself, then he took a step to bridge the distance that separated the two of them.  Dean could feel the warmth of Cas’s body where their chests brushed against one another.  They were so close that their toes almost touched.  Cas reached a hand up to cup Dean’s cheek, rose onto his toes, and pressed his warm, soft lips against Dean’s.  “Thank you.”


	16. Unravelling the Threads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for dubcon elements.

 

            At 8:00 am Tuesday morning, just a few minutes after Dean had settled behind his desk to work on unfinished paperwork, there was a soft tapping on Dean’s door.  He looked up, eyebrows scrunching together, and called “Come in.”

            The door cracked open and Jo squeezed through, moving strangely, almost as though she were sick, or guarding an injury, and she shut the door softly behind her.  Dean was halfway out of his seat, asking “Hey, are you okay?” Before Jo held up a hand to stop him.  She shook her head minutely, eyes clouded, and cleared her throat.  Dean was frozen, half-standing, waiting for some sort of clue about what was going on.  Jo stood there for a moment, silent, simply breathing.  Finally, after a long, strained moment, Jo shook her head sharply and when she looked at Dean this time, her eyes were clear.  “Dean, we need to talk.”

            Dean nodded, uncertain, but he allowed himself to sink back into his chair.  “Sure Jo.”  Dean waved his hand at the seat across his desk and Jo sank into it heavily, obviously troubled.  “What’s going on?”

            Jo met Dean’s eyes and it twisted something inside him to see her this way.  She looked haunted.  “I need your help Dean.  I’d like to file a report.”

            Dean’s eyebrows jumped up his forehead.  “So this is business.”

            “…Yes.”  Jo murmured, staring into space again.

            “Seriously, Jo, tell me what’s wrong.  You’re kinda freaking me out here.”

            “There’s some sort of supernatural creature preying on Victor…er… the mayor.”

            “What?!”  Dean yelped.  “What are you talking about?  What happened?  What did you see?”  Dean dug out his notepad and pen, and was poised to frantically jot down details.

            Jo cleared her throat, jaw clenching.  “He was late this morning.  He missed one of his appointments and when I tried calling him, he wouldn’t pick up.  I was worried so I drove to his house to see if he was okay since he hasn’t been feeling good lately.  I have a key so I let myself in.  Only… when I got there, I could hear him.  Panting… moaning.”  Jo twisted her fingers together, eyebrows drawing into a frown.  “I um….”  Jo blushed and had to clear her throat.  “I recognized those sounds and knew that… _knew_ that Victor was having sex.”

            Dean frowned and clenched his fist around the pen.  What the fuck? 

            “I was so angry and hurt and confused—I just thought to myself that there was no way that Victor would cheat on me.  No way, Dean.  He’s not that kind of guy.  But I went upstairs to see for myself, and to confront him if I had to.  I barged right into his room and sure as shit, he was there.  Having… _sex_ with… I don’t know what it was.  _Dean,_ ”  Jo’s voice came out as an anxious whine and her eyes had glazed over again.  She looked panicked.  “Dean… I don’t know what it was.”

            Dean pushed aside his anger at Victor to try to get to the bottom of whatever this issue was.  He didn’t want to have to tell Jo that her boyfriend, that _the mayor of their town_ was a cheating bastard.  Dean was gonna give Victor the benefit of the doubt.  He was.  So Dean cleared his throat, positioned his pen against the paper and asked “What did she, I mean it… what did it look like?”

            Jo’s throat constricted, her eyes were unfathomable as she looked at Dean and whispered “Me.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean didn’t even know where to fucking begin dealing with this case.  At first he thought that maybe Jo had finally just lost it.  All the stress of trying to make sure the town ran smoothly, and then finding out that Victor was cheating on her must have pushed her over the deep end.  Hell, maybe Victor just had a _type_ and this girl happened to look like Jo.  But Jo insisted “ _No_ Dean.  When I say this creature looked like me, I mean it looked _exactly like ME!”_   Dean hadn’t argued past that point because Jo had gotten even more riled and then she’d started pacing his office, twisting her hands together and shaking her head.  He just really had no fucking clue.  He had never heard of something quite like this before.  While Jo was pacing, he did a quick search through the online Supernatural Information System to see if he could pick up a lead.  He tried looking up Supernaturals that could change identities and several pages of results showed up.  He typed in Supernaturals+sex to see if he could maybe narrow the field and ended up with EVEN MORE results.

           “Fuck me,” Dean sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.  “This isn’t going to help, I guess.  Let’s go talk to Victor.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

            It turned out that the only person more freaked out than Jo was Victor.  When they arrived at his house, it was to find all the windows and doors locked, and all the curtains drawn.  Jo handily unlocked the door and strode in, glancing around warily as she called for Victor.  There was no answer.  Dean motioned for Jo to stay back while he made a round to make sure the creature wasn’t still there but of course Jo flatly ignored him, even after Dean reminded her that he was a police officer.  Dean kept his gun out as they searched the house, though, and eventually they found the mayor.

            Victor had locked himself in the upstairs bathroom and refused to open the door.  When Jo knocked and asked him nicely to open it, Dean could hear Victor’s strangled whine coming from the other side.  He pushed Jo aside and banged on the door.  “Victor, it’s Dean.  Open up!”

            “Winchester?”

            “Yeah man, it’s me.  I need to talk to you, and I think it’s best if we go down to the station.”

            “Is Jo out there?”

            Dean glanced at her quickly before saying “Yeah, she’s here.”

            “Then I’m not coming out.  Something freaky is happening, Winchester.  I saw two Jos this morning and I’m pretty sure at least one of them was a monster.”

            Dean huffed.  “Yeah, Victor, I know.  Jo came to the station to report it a little while ago.  That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”

            “Jo…”  Victor mumbled through the door.

            Jo pressed her ear to the wood.  “Yeah, Vic.”

            “Is it really you?”

            “It’s me.”

            There was a soft bang and Victor huffed.  “I need you to prove it.”

            Jo rolled her eyes.  “Victor, sweetheart, you and I go and get manicures together every two weeks.  Open the door.”

            Dean scrunched up his nose but stepped back when the bathroom door unlocked and Victor pulled it open to look at them both warily.  “Jo.  Winchester.  I have no idea what is happening.”

            Dean patted Victor on the back when he bravely emerged from the bathroom, saying “I think it’s best of we head back to the station to discuss this.  Ya know, just in case.”

            Victor shot Dean a worried look out of the corner of his eye but nodded, murmuring.  “Yeah, sure.  There are guns there.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The ride to the station was tense—neither Jo nor Victor said a word and Dean was just confused.  After they were back in Dean’s office, and each of them had a strong cup of coffee to brace themselves with, Dean began the interrogation.  “Jo says that you were late coming in this morning.”

             Victor actually blushed and looked away, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.  “Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have been.  But, uh….”  Then he shivered and made a weird gagging sound.

             Dean huffed.  “Look man, I know this is difficult, but I need to know what happened if I’m going to be able to do anything about it.  So spill.  What happened?”

             Victor looked down at his lap and busied his hands by picking at a stray thread on his jacket sleeve.  “I got a, uh… a morning wake-up call from Jo.  We started messing around and I said that we didn’t have time, that we were going to be late.  But Jo told me that my morning appointment had been cancelled and that we could afford to stay in bed for a while.”  He gulped.  “I thought everything was normal, everything was fine.  And then next thing I know, the bedroom door is slamming open and Jo is standing there staring.  Only… I was with Jo.”

              Jo frowned.  “Except you weren’t.”

              Victor jerked his head up to stare at her.  “I _was._ ” He insisted.  “Babe, _it was you._ You know I’d never… I’d never….”

              Jo nodded sharply.  “Yeah, ‘course I know.  But it wasn’t me, Vic.  It was something else.”

             Victor’s eyes went blank again and he covered his face with his hands.  “Oh God, what the hell is going on?”

             Dean ground his teeth together, enraged for his friends.  “I don’t know, man.  But I’m gonna find out.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Delecto_ was buzzing with the chatter of customers when Dean pushed through the door.  He gave the room a quick scan and found Cas almost immediately.  Cas was dressed in a charcoal Henley with blue jeans and wore a green apron over top of his outfit.  He had his arms crossed over his chest and was chuckling; upon closer inspection, Dean realized he was talking with the Women’s Club.  When the door shut behind Dean, Cas glanced over and gave him a soft smile.  Dean couldn’t help but grin back and apparently the exchange didn’t go unnoticed.  Margie glanced back at him and gave him this weird, soft-eyed look, and put her hand over her heart.  Yeah….  Dean was _so_ not dealing with that today.  He strode forward, clearing his throat, and said “Hey Cas, do you have a sec?  I need to talk to you.  In private.”

          Castiel furrowed his brows but then nodded.  “Of course, Dean.  Is the kitchen alright?”

          “That’s fine, Cas.  Lead on.”

          Once they were in the kitchen, Cas took a step closer to rest his hand on Dean’s shoulder.  “What’s wrong?”

          Dean sighed.  “There’s something really strange going on with the mayor and I was hoping you’d be able to help.”

          Cas frowned.  “Of course I would be happy to, but what do you think I will be able to do?”

          Dean chuckled.  “Um, right now I’m kind of hoping that your knowledge of the supernatural will come in handy, because I’m stumped.”

          Cas straightened, his eyes narrowing, and he said “Tell me.”

          Cas’s face was a mask the whole time Dean recounted the tale, revealing nothing of his thoughts.  When Dean had finished, however, Cas said “Let me make a quick phone call.”  Dean of course acquiesced and waited silently while Cas called Andy and asked if it would be possible for him to come in and cover the shop for a couple hours.  The conversation was over quickly and after Cas had hung up the phone, he turned to Dean and said “Andy will be here shortly.  I want you to take me to the mayor’s house.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean decided to drive.  They were a block away from Victor’s house when Cas started to get twitchy.  He began to fidget in the passenger seat, flexing his fingers almost like his hands had gone numb and he was trying to get the feeling back.  Dean parked in the driveway and kept a wary eye on Cas as they approached the house.  When Dean pushed the door open, Cas moved inside with stiff, halting steps. 

            Dean didn’t even have to guide him to Victor’s room—Cas just wandered there on his own, not once being diverted.  By the time he reached Victor’s room, the air around Cas felt tense and Dean was a little unnerved.  Cas tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers over Victor’s duvet.  His back went rigid and the air in the room was suddenly electrified.  Dean was almost afraid to move, afraid to make a sound.  It was like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.  Slowly, Cas withdrew his hand and turned back to Dean.  His eyes were so bright, so charged with _something_ that they were almost glowing.  Cas’s voice was a deep growl when he said “Where is the mayor now?”

            Dean shuddered at Cas’s tone and murmured “He’s at the station.  Seemed like the safest place.  What is it, Cas?”

            “There is an incubus in Willowsbend.”


	17. Going Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience with me while I'm writing this story. I've been distracted lately with some of my other stories ('Til the Last) but we're winding down with this story, so I plan to stick with it. I figure maybe 3 or 4 chapters left. I hope you all enjoy!

 

 

            “What the hell, an incubus?  I didn’t even know those things really existed?  Jesus, I think I’m gonna puke.”

            Dean waited patiently for Victor to get himself under control again.  Cas stood at Dean’s side, just slightly behind his shoulder—supportive, but decidedly _not_ the center of attention.  “I know, Victor,” Dean soothed, “but Cas and I have investigated the scene and now that we know what we’re dealing with here, we were able to come up with a plan of action.”

            Victor and Jo both raised their eyes to stare past Dean at Cas, where he shifted warily on his feet.  Jo quirked an inquisitive brow.  “Cas know something we don’t know?”

            Dean opened his mouth to explain but Cas shuffled forward, his deep voice calm.  “I am able to sense the incubus with my power.  Also, I know of some precautions that will protect you until Dean can apprehend the culprit.”

            “What precautions?”  Victor asked, voice still too high pitched to be normal.

            Dean glanced between both Victor and Jo. “Is it alright with you, Jo, if Victor stays at your place for a few days while we work to resolve this?”

            Jo gave a sharp nod.  “Sure.  That’s not a problem.”  She shot Victor a quick, nervous look, but he simply nodded in agreement.  Dean didn’t miss Victor tentatively reaching out to brush his hand against Jo’s.  Dean honestly did feel sorry for the both of them, that their relationship was strained because of some meddling outside force and a huge misunderstanding.  But his friends were strong, and he had faith that they’d be able to make it through this.

            “Good.  Cas and I will come with you.  Cas will ward your house, and then we’ll go to City Hall and ward that building too, so that you don’t have to worry about anything bad getting in.”

            Jo’s look was skeptical again as she fixed her eyes on Cas.  “And you can guarantee Victor’s safety?  How?”

            Cas shrugged, offering his open palms in appeasement.  “I can guarantee that as long as the mayor remains in either of those buildings, no harm will come to him.  I plan on warding each place with the same spells that I use on my own establishment.  Though I will need your explicit permission before I start the warding process, because it will require the use of blood magic.”

            “Why blood magic?”  Dean understood Jo’s wariness in dealing with magic she didn’t understand.  He really did.  But another, louder part of himself wished that she would quit looking at Cas like he was the enemy here.  He didn’t have to be here right now, he didn’t have to be offering to use his own magic to protect people who were still wary of him.  But despite Dean’s displeasure, Cas remained calm and polite, and explained easily.

            “Anyone can cast a spell.  Anytime, anyplace.  The catch, however, is that any magical working requires a power source, some energy to draw from.  Witches are different from other people because for some reason, we have the ability to more closely direct our energy to these workings.  Usually, the intent is enough for a spell—at least a spell of medium potency.  However, stronger spells require more energy, and blood not only carries my life energy, it IS energy.  It’s the strongest  power source that exists naturally within a witch.  I understand that you are wary of blood magic—it has gotten a bad reputation because other witches have used it for less than noble reasons.  Though even in those cases, they only did so because of the level of power it offered.  In this case, my reasoning is very simple: It will take a lot of energy to fully ward two whole buildings, but I am both able and willing to do that for you.”

            “And you’re sure it’ll work?”  Victor asked.

            Cas nodded.  “I hope that this will comfort you rather than alarm you, but yes.  It will work.  I am stronger than this incubus.  My blood will insure your safety.”

            Jo’s shoulder tensed with this pronouncement and her eyes drifted warily from Cas’s face to Dean’s, searching for answers.  Dean gave her an easy nod, letting her know that it was no surprise for him, and that yes, it was okay.  Finally, she sighed and said “Alright.  Let’s do it.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Dean couldn’t help but flinch when Castiel took the blade and cut a line into his arm, deep enough that blood immediately welled to the surface.  Cas shot him a warning look and murmured “It’s necessary, Dean.  There are a lot of wards involved, and they require a lot of blood.”

            Dean frowned.  “Yeah, well, I don’t have to like it, do I?”

            Cas huffed.  “No, I suppose you don’t.  But you heard my explanation earlier, Dean.  There is a reason that blood is necessary.”

            Dean folded his arms tightly across his chest and leveled Cas with his best police officer stare.  “You think I’m upset about the blood?”

            Cas shrugged.  “What else is there?”

            Dean waved his hand, annoyed now. “Oh, I dunno, Cas.  Maybe the fact that you have to hurt yourself to do this?  That it’s not even your problem in the first place?  I mean come on, I just watched you dig a knife into your own arm.  How am I supposed to feel?”  Cas frowned, obviously still confused.  Dean rolled his eyes and laid a palm to the solid warmth of Cas’s shoulder.  “I just don’t like seeing you hurt, man.”

            Cas’s eyes softened with understanding and he allowed himself a tiny grin.  “In that case, you don’t need to worry.  I’ve done this plenty of times, and there is a salve that I use that speeds the healing.  I will be good as new in a couple days.”

            “If you say so.”  Dean took a step back and watched as Cas dipped his fingers into the welling blood and went about painting symbols on the edges of the door.

 

* * *

 

 

            A couple hours later, they left Jo and Victor safe but nervous in Jo’s house, with the promise that Dean would call in the morning to see that everything was okay.  As Dean slid behind the wheel of the Impala, he tried unsuccessfully to bite back the huge yawn that had been building since mid-afternoon.  Cas sent him a look out of the corner of his eye and asked “Are you alright?”

            Dean nodded, yawning again, and finally was able to mumble.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.  Just tired.”

            Cas shifted in his seat to fix Dean with an unblinking blue stare.  “You’ve been tired a lot lately.”

            Dean shrugged.  “Yeah, well, you know the deal.  Small town cop.  Overworked, underpaid.  That’s how it goes, right?”

            Cas’s mouth pulled down into a slight frown.  “I suppose.  But you’ve been a police officer as long as I’ve known you.  However, you haven’t always been this tired.”

            Dean shifted the car into drive and fixed his eyes on the road.  “Well maybe I’m coming down with something.  I dunno.  I mean, I told you before that I haven’t been sleeping well.”

            Cas suddenly stiffened in the seat next to him, his hand darting out to wrap tightly around Dean’s arm.  “Dean.  Where is the protection charm I gave you?”

            Dean frowned, thinking back to their conversation days ago.  “Um… I think it’s at the office.”

            Dean could feel Cas’s gaze boring into the side of his head, but he refused to look at the other man.  “I thought you said you would keep it close!”

            “Well, yeah.”  Dean mumbled.  “I keep it at the office because that’s when I’m on duty.   Made sense.”

            Cas’s hand squeezed almost convulsively before he withdrew it, murmuring “Damn it.”  Dean flicked a quick glance at Cas, shocked, because the other man rarely cursed.

            “What is it, Cas?  What’s the big deal?”

            They were pulling up in front of _Delecto_ now and once Dean had put the Impala in park, he turned his attention to Cas, whose eyes were narrowed, dark.  “Dean.  Have you been having strange dreams lately?”

            Dean jerked his gaze away, blushing.  He ran a hand over the back of his neck.  “What are you getting at, Cas?  You think this incubus thing has been fucking with me, too?”

            Cas’s voice was deep, solemn, when he asked “Well, has it?”

            Dean shook his head vehemently.  “No.  No way.”

            “Have you been having strange dreams, Dean?”

            “What’s strange?  How do you even judge something like that?”

            Cas kept his gaze firmly fixed on Dean’s face and didn’t even flinch when he asked “Have you been having dreams of a sexual nature?  Um… more than usual?”

            Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Okay, look.  I uh… I have.  I mean, they’re recent, but they’re not _that_ recent.”  Dean’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.  “They’re more frequent now, sure, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t have anything to do with a monster.”

            Cas tilted his head at a slight angle and studied Dean like he was suddenly a huge mystery.  “What does it have to do with, then?”  Dean could feel his cheeks flushing a dark red, could feel the blush traveling across his neck and ears, too.  He swallowed, and his throat felt too tight.  It was mid-winter but the air in the car suddenly felt too hot and stuffy.  He dared a glance up to meet Cas’s eyes, briefly, but their gazes locked, and he couldn’t seem to look away.  He stared at Cas meaningfully, eyes wide, silently pleading that Cas would understand.  Cas continued to stare curiously for a moment before his own eyes widened, and he glanced down at his lap, where his fingers were fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.  He sounded embarrassed when he mumbled. “Oh. I uh… I see.”

            The tension in the car was almost unbearable, and Dean wanted nothing more than to be out of this situation, but wasn’t about to kick Cas out, and no way was he abandoning his own car.  “Yeah.  So uh… what do you want me to say, Cas?  I mean… I know we’re….  Um… I mean, you know I care about you, and stuff.  But I’m not good with the whole talking about feelings thing, and this wasn’t a conversation I was planning on having anytime soon.”  Cas gave a slow nod, like he was distracted. 

            They were silent for a while, allowing the silence to stretch between them, before Dean finally gave up with a sigh and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.  “Shit.  Do you really think this thing has been messing with me, too?”

            Cas shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I hope not.  But I would rather we make sure.”

            “Yeah?  How do you propose we do that?”

            “We catch it.”

            “What?”

            “The mayor is currently out of reach of this creature.  If it has indeed been messing with you as well, then it is likely that it will return tonight.  That’s when we catch it.”

            “Cas.  I’m all behind setting a trap for this thing, but uh… it’ll be a little hard for me to catch it if I’m sleeping.  Right?”

            Cas bit his lip nervously and raised his eyes to Dean’s.  “That’s why I’ll be there.  I’ll watch over you while you sleep and if anything untoward happens, I’ll spring the trap and we’ll catch the incubus.”

            Dean’s mouth dropped open.  “You uh… you’re gonna come watch me sleep?”

            “Dean.”  It was amazing how Cas’s voice could sound fond, exasperated, and bossy all at once. 

            Dean swallowed down a smart ass remark and said “Yeah, okay.  Let’s trap this bitch.”

            Cas gave a short nod of approval.  “Let’s head up to my apartment first.  I have some supplies there that we’ll need for later.”


	18. Springing the Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for voyeurism, dubcon/noncon elements, and some overall weird shit.

           

 

            It was amazing how much setting a trap for a life-sucking monster felt kind of like a date. 

            After they’d stopped by Cas’s apartment for supplies and to feed Nox, they’d headed to Dean’s house.  Sam was out for the night, crashing with Ellen so that he wouldn’t get in the way of what they were going to attempt.

            Now Dean was in the kitchen, cooking up a broccoli, beef, and ginger stir fry that made the whole house smell warm and delicious.  He stood in jeans, t-shirt, and socks, and stirred the ingredients in the pan, humming to himself as he did so.  He supposed that he should be more nervous, but he wasn’t.  Not really.  It wasn’t just that he had faith in his own ability to deal with whatever the hell this creature was, but also because he trusted the weird coffee guy with dark messy hair and big blue eyes who was currently casting some sort of spell in his bedroom.  Cas had offered to let Dean observe his casting, so that he could explain exactly what he was doing, but honestly, Dean just didn’t have the energy for it now.  So he’d left his friend to it.

 

 

            In the bedroom, magic hung thick on the air, but Castiel was currently weaving the threads of a spell into the wood of the walls, and the fibers of the area rug, and even through the fabric of the quilt on Dean’s bed.  Piece by piece, the large web of the working was being absorbed into the room so that it would be invisible to the creature. 

            Castiel was tired—he’d already expended more energy today than he had since Evan’s accident, and though he was glad to be able to help the people he cared about, it nevertheless took a toll on him.  The spells he’d performed to safeguard the mayor and Jo Harvelle had severely depleted his energy stores, but luckily, Castiel believed in being prepared for just that possibility.

            In an iron-lined case in his apartment, a collection of stones lay on a soft velvet display: these stones all had a specific purpose, and the row of black onyx were the ones that Castiel called upon now.  Onyx had the potential to store large reservoirs of energy and the collection of seven onyx that Castiel owned were full and charged with his energy at its peak.  He used one now to set the spell in motion, and he tucked two others into his pockets for later.

            It was strange for Castiel to be standing in Dean’s bedroom on his own, trusted by the man to do what needed to be done without invading his privacy.  They’d come a long way, Dean and Castiel.  The energy in the room was comforting and calming—the feel and smell of _Dean_ permeated the walls and fabric of the space, and Castiel could sense Dean like he was standing right next to him.  Castiel hesitated before he sliced along his palm and began to dab his blood into the corners of the room and the windowsills and doorway.  The blood was a necessary part of the spell, would hold the whole thing together, activate it, and bind it to Castiel so that he could catch the night-time intruder.  But still…. He was loathe to alter the energy of the room—he hoped that it wouldn’t make Dean uncomfortable.  In essence, he’d just braided his own energy through one of Dean’s most personal spaces and even though Dean had given his consent, it still felt like a violation.  Even after the spell was burned away, traces of Castiel’s power might linger.

            After Castiel had painted the necessary sigils and was satisfied that the threads of the spell were undetectable, he packed away his supplies and followed his nose toward the kitchen.  He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile hitching his lips when he found Dean busy cooking over the stove, humming to himself and rocking his hips to a tune that only he could hear.  He was beautiful like this, and Castiel felt honored to have been welcomed into Dean’s life.  Castiel shifted on his feet, uncomfortable watching Dean without his knowledge, so he cleared his throat to get the other man’s attention.

            Dean glanced over his shoulder and smiled, waving at him with a wooden spoon.  “Heya Cas.  All done?”

            “Yes.  Everything is in place.”

            “Good.  Dinner’s almost ready.  Why don’t you go find a movie or something for us to watch?”

            Castiel smiled.  “Alright.”

 

 

 

            Castiel chose _Transformers_ and the two of them settled on the couch together to eat the delicious dinner that Dean made and relax before they had to face the challenge of the night. 

            Dean knew that he should probably feel uncomfortable, but he didn’t.  Cas now knew that Dean had been having naughty sex dreams about him for a good few weeks, and that was embarrassing enough, but now Cas was going to watch over Dean as he slept, and God knows what would happen then.  Dean knew that he occasionally spoke in his sleep, and if what Jo and Victor said was true, he might be doing a hell of a lot more than that, if indeed there was an incubus stalking him.  Even knowing this, Dean didn’t feel uncomfortable.  In fact, as the movie played on and Dean grew sleepy from the food after the long day, he allowed himself to slump next to Cas so that their shoulders were pressed warmly against each other.  He could feel the rise and fall of Cas’s chest, and could hear each breath he took, and instead of freaking him out, it made him smile contentedly.

 

 

 

            “Dean, it’s time for sleep.”  Castiel murmured in Dean’s ear as he shook his shoulder gently. 

            Dean grumbled and pulled himself up off the couch, stretching his arms high over his head until his back cracked.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’.”  He headed toward his bedroom but paused halfway there, glancing back over his shoulder to where Castiel still stood next to the couch.  “Hey man, you coming or what?”

            “Oh, um… yes.”  So Castiel followed him.

            Castiel hovered uncertainly inside the bedroom door, eyes cast down to the floor, until Dean murmured for Castiel to shut the door.  Castiel did as he was bid, and when he turned back, his mouth dropped open embarrassingly.  Dean stood next to his bed, covers pulled back, and he was currently peeling his shirt off over his head, ruffling his hair as we went.  He tossed the material aside and then made quick work of his belt buckle and the button of his jeans.  He dropped his pants to the floor and kicked them away.  Only after he was unclothed did he glance back up at Castiel.  Castiel jerked his eyes up to Dean’s, feeling his cheeks flush from the guilt of having been caught with his eyes roaming over the tanned, freckled expanses of Dean’s naked skin.  The timbre of Dean’s voice had Castiel starting and blushing even harder when he asked “So how do you want to do this?”

            “Do…this?”  Castiel asked, eyes wandering again from Dean’s face down over his broad shoulders and across his firm, muscled chest.

            Dean chuckled.  “Yeah, Cas.  We’re supposed to be catching a monster, remember?”

            “Oh, um… yes.  I mean, of course.  Yes.”  Castiel shifted on his feet and ran a hand nervously through his hair.  “Well, um…. You should go about your usual routine.”  Castiel cast a glance around the room again, to where he’d positioned a chair in the corner earlier.  “And I’ll just sit here and watch.”  Dean quirked an eyebrow and smirked.  Castiel coughed.  “Watch over you.”

            An amused grin still curved Dean’s lips when he crawled under the sheet and quilt that covered his bed.  Castiel settled in the chair near the foot of Dean’s bed and murmured “Good night, Dean,” when Dean reached over and turned out the light.  The room was dim—only the weak light of the waning moon shone in through the window, but even through the gloom, Castiel could see the curve of Dean’s body on the bed.  “Night, Cas.”  Dean whispered.

            Castiel resigned himself to a long night of standing guard.  It was a week before Christmas, and the night was cold.  The wind blew outside and rattled the double-paned glass of Dean’s bedroom window.  Castiel could feel the chill of a draft brush over his skin, and he tugged the sleeves of his sweater down his arms.  Not long after the light went out, Dean’s breath settled into a slow, steady rhythm and Castiel knew that he was sleeping soundly.  The scent of Dean was everywhere, and so was the comforting feel of his energy—an energy that Castiel had gotten used to and learned to love over the months he’d lived in Willowsbend.  He was comfortable here.

 

 

 

            Dean’s alarm-clock radio glared 2:56 AM when Castiel was jerked to attention by the sound of Dean shifting under the sheets and moaning “Cas….Nnng…Cas….”  Castiel shifted uncomfortably on his chair. Dean rolled over onto his back, and through the gloom, Castiel could see his hands clench in the sheets.  Dean arched his back and exposed his neck—a deep groan rumbling from his throat.

            Castiel’s own breath came quicker now.  Was this just a dream?  Castiel couldn’t sense anything out of place.  Another delicious moan echoed in the room.  Castiel shifted again, uncomfortably aware that Dean’s sounds were having an effect on him.

            Castiel watched and listened, feeling awkward to witness this, but unwilling to leave, either.  His skin was too hot, his breaths were coming too fast.  He’d imagined Dean like this before, in the privacy of his own bed, but the reality was so much better.  How would Castiel be able to look Dean in the eye after this, and not think of the sounds he made during sex?

            Suddenly, the air shifted, became charged, and Castiel was pulled from his reverie.  Static sparked against Castiel’s skin and the window rattled harder.  The creature was coming.  Castiel called on the first string of spells in order to hide himself from the incubus.

            Castiel had always imagined that incubi were ugly creatures—the mythology said so, and occasionally, the stories were right.  Though the mayor and Jo had both claimed the creature looked similar to Jo, Castiel had honestly believed that he would see the creature’s true face.  What he _did see_ stunned him and stole the air from his lungs.

            The incubus shimmered into view at the foot of the bed—tall, dark hair artfully ruffled, pale shoulders broad.  It was entirely naked, and even from the back, Castiel recognized himself.  He struggled to remain silent; a startled yelp held down only by the reminder that Dean’s safety was at stake.

            The creature rolled its shoulders, murmured “Dean,” in Castiel’s voice, and started crawling up the bed on its hands and knees.  Dean reached for the creature in his sleep, a low whine ripping from his throat when the creature straddled Dean’s lap and ground down with its hips.  Castiel’s mouth was dry now, and his eyes were wide in shock.  He couldn’t seem to move.

            The creature murmured words that Castiel couldn’t hear, and then it nipped at Dean’s jaw and started writhing its hips on Dean’s lap.  “Caa-as!”  Dean moaned.  The incubus dipped its head down and smothered Dean’s cries with a kiss.  Dean’s body jerked and the creature hummed in pleasure. 

            Castiel stood jerkily from his seat, his body a strange mix of cold fear and burning fury.  He took a shaking step toward the foot of the bed, raised his arms out, reaching for the threads of the spell, clenched his fists, and _pulled._ He felt the backlash of power sizzle along his veins when the trap snapped shut and the creature wearing Castiel’s face reared back, shrieking.  Castiel’s body shook with the effort of holding the creature’s power in check with his own. 

            Dean startled awake, shouting, and yanked his body away from the incubus.  He stumbled out of bed, rumpled, eyes wide, and scrabbled for the gun Castiel knew he kept on the bedside table.  “Cas!”  Dean shouted, “You got the bastard?!”

            Castiel’s whole body was vibrating now—the creature was attempting to feed on the spell’s energy, was attempting to _drain Castiel_ since it had been thwarted from feeding from Dean.  “Dean,” Castiel gritted, “I can’t…hold…it!”

            Dean stalked forward, gun in hand, and from the darkness, he pulled his set of spelled handcuffs.  “Don’t fucking move or I’ll put a bullet in your brain!”  Dean growled.  Castiel was gasping now, body aching, and his eyes fluttered shut.  “Cas!”  Dean shouted.  Castiel’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he could feel himself falling.

            The last thing he was aware of, before everything went black, was the echo of gunshots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me, my lovely readers! I'm sorry this update took so long, but I hope you enjoyed! :)


	19. What Home is Supposed to Feel Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I apologize for the crazy long wait on this chapter, but I wanted to thank you for your patience! Only one more chapter left! I hope you enjoy :)

 

 

            Light filtered in slowly, a soft golden glow that steadily grew to a blinding white.  With it came the beeping, fading in and out in strange rhythms.  Castiel became aware of his body then—it was a heaviness, a bone-deep weariness.  He felt empty, drained.  For a long time, Castiel hadn’t been aware of anything at all.  Now, he wondered at how strange it was that he wasn’t dead.

            When Castiel’s eyes eventually fluttered open, the first thing he saw was Dean’s relieved face looking back at him from the bed-side chair.  Cas cleared his throat and mumbled “D-Dean?”

            Dean chuckled and squeezed Cas’s hand.  “It’s me.”  Dean’s voice was a warm rumble and it fed life back into Castiel.  With his other hand, Dean reached out to brush a wisp of Castiel’s dark hair from his eyes.  Dean smiled at him, but his eyes showed the worry that he tried to hide from Castiel when he said “This whole landing yourself in the hospital thing is becoming a habit, Cas….”

            Castiel smiled and squeezed Dean’s hand back, though it was becoming hard to keep his eyes open. “I’ll try to do better in the future,” he assured Dean before the darkness claimed him again.

 

 

 

 

            Missouri Mosely was Castiel’s wonderful nurse again, and when she brought him jello to eat, she brought an extra cup of it for Dean, though she still whacked him on the back of the head and told him he should go get some real food too.

            In between bites of lime jello, Dean asked “So, uh…what went wrong back at the house, Cas?”

            Castiel scratched at the IV in his hand and frowned.  “The incubus was stronger than I imagined it would be, and very clever as well.  It was draining my power through the spell, feeding on _me._ ”

            Dean frowned.  “I thought the whole point of the way you did that spell was so that the incubus wouldn’t be able to attack you like that.”

            Cas huffed and shoved his jello aside—frankly he wasn’t a fan of the green gelatin.  “Yes, well, I did put a break in the spell so that it was no longer tied directly to my life-force, but once I picked the ends of the spell back up again, I left myself open once more.  The incubus took advantage of that.  It was very angry that I had stopped it feeding from you, so it tried its best to kill me.”  Dean’s face hardened at that, and Cas looked down at his hands.  The last thing he’d been aware of was the sound of gunshots.  “So, um… what ended up happening?”

            From the corner of his eye, Castiel saw Dean shake his head.  “I had no choice but to shoot, Cas.  I thought it was killing you, and it wouldn’t stand down.”

            “So…?”

            “It’s dead.”

            Castiel nodded solemnly.  That’s what he’d feared.

            Dean’s voice was gruffer than usual when he said “There’s gonna be an investigation.  It’s routine, whenever something like…this…happens.  So I’ve been given some leave time.”

            Dean ate all of his jello and then Castiel gave Dean the rest of his as well.  After Dean had swallowed his last spoonful of the green stuff, he leaned back in his chair and said “I uh… I was gonna go check up on Nox for you, but I know you’ve got protection spells on your place and I didn’t wanna trip anything.”

            Castiel smiled genuinely, then.  “Thank you, Dean.  Nox and I would both appreciate that.  I do have protection spells in place, but they’re triggered by intentions.  I don’t think you have to worry.”

            Dean stood then, and stretched his arms high over his head, revealing a slip of lightly tanned skin on his belly when his shirt rose.  “Alright, well I guess I’ll go check on your cat then.  You get some more rest, alright?”  It seemed like nothing when Dean bent down and pressed a kiss to Cas’s forehead, lingering for just a moment before he scampered out of the hospital room.  Castiel grinned to himself, and he could feel his cheeks warm with a blush. 

            Life wasn’t perfect, and as they’d all seen recently, bad things could definitely happen, but this… what he had with Dean… this was good.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

            Christmas was a low-key affair, but Dean sorta liked it that way, anyway.  When Dean woke in the morning, it was to find Sam already waiting in the living room by the Christmas tree, just like he used to do as a kid.  It made Dean feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing that no matter how big and obnoxious his brother got, he was still the weird kid that Dean had practically raised.

            They traded gifts before anyone else had the chance to arrive, and when Ellen and Jo showed up later bearing trays of food, the boys were happy to see them.  Bobby was on duty at the station that day, but he managed to sneak away for some time with his adopted family, and he arrived bearing a tray of elaborately decorated cookies that Becky had made for everyone.

            Cas was the last to arrive, but that was okay, because he and Dean had had a good, long talk while Cas was in the hospital, and they’d finally gotten some things straightened out between them.  And, well… Dean was both a bit nervous and also really excited, because Cas had agreed to stay over for the night.  Dean wasn’t sure what all it meant, or what would happen, but he was excited to see.

            Cas looked adorable and hot as ever when he showed up at the door wearing close-fitting dark jeans and a blue Henley that matched his eyes perfectly.  Cas managed to get off a quick “Hello!”  to everyone gathered in the kitchen before Dean pulled him into his bedroom and shut the door behind them. 

            Cas smirked and quirked an eyebrow at Dean’s actions, and Dean felt a blush crawling across his cheeks.  “You’re in an awful hurry, aren’t you?”  Cas asked, his voice a warm, deep rumble that went right through Dean.

            Dean laughed, the sound tinged with nerves.  “That, uh…”  Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  “That’s beside the point.”  He grumbled.  “I wanted to give you your Christmas present without an audience.”

            Cas smiled back at Dean and said “Yes, that’s a good idea.  I have yours as well.”

            “You go first.”

            “Alright.”  Cas reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny black pouch, smaller than his palm.  He held it out for Dean and shifted uneasily on his feet while he waited for Dean to take it.  “I know it’s not very… Christmas-y, but, well… it’s to help you sleep, and if you sleep with it under your pillow, it will keep nightmares at bay.”

            The thoughtfulness of the gift warmed Dean’s heart, and he offered Cas a happy smile.  “Thanks, Cas.  This is… honestly, it’s awesome.  This baby is definitely going under my pillow.”

            “I’m glad.”

            Now it was Dean’s turn to fidget.  He reached into his own pocket, and clutched the warm piece of metal in his palm.  His hand was sweaty.  Cas was looking at him with his wide, blue, trusting eyes, and Dean felt safe, despite the big move he was about to make.  He let out a shuddery breath and said “So… I wasn’t sure what to get you, because everything I thought of just seemed…hokey.  So this isn’t a normal Christmas present, and I don’t want you to freak out about it, either.  It, uh… Well, here.”  Dean reached out and dropped the key into Cas’s waiting hand.  Cas’s eyes went wide when he realized what it was, so Dean hurried to explain.  “It, uh… it doesn’t have to be a… _thing…._ I mean, I’m not asking you to marry me, or something.”  Cas tilted his head in that adorable way and Dean felt his face heat up even more.  He was doing a shitty job of explaining himself here.  He huffed and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts, before focusing on the man in front of him again.  Finally, he felt steady enough to say, “I just wanted to let you know that—that I trust you.  And that you’re welcome here, whenever you wanna be here.  That I uh… that I want you here.”  Dean swallowed down his nervousness and stepped forward, into Cas’s space.  “And this, too.”  He pressed his lips firmly to Cas’s, and sighed in contentment when Cas embraced him and kissed back.

            “It’s perfect, Dean.  Thank you.”

 

 

 

 

             The day was fun and relaxing.  Jo and Sam teased Dean and Cas relentlessly, saying that it was about damn time that they pulled their heads out of their asses and realized that they were sort of in love with each other.  Dean called them both bitches and told them to shut up, but he couldn’t help but admit that they sort of had a point.  He and Cas had been dancing around each other practically since they’d met, and even though they’d admitted that they were into each other before, they’d been real cautious about it.  But you know… there was just something about having the guy watch some of Dean’s kinky fantasies play out in front of him that was liberating.  After that, there was really no denying that Dean wanted Cas, and Cas was fully on board.

             That night, long after dinner and dessert, and re-runs of Christmas movies on cable, after Sam had already turned in, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and tugged him to his bedroom once more. 

             And when Cas stripped down to his boxers and crawled under the sheets next to Dean, so that their heated skin slid softly against each other, it was one of the best damn things Dean had ever felt in his life. 

             Yeah… this was what he’d always sort of imagined home was supposed to feel like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next (and last) chapter will have some fluffy smut, and also a surprise! :D


	20. Working It Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks! Thank you to everyone who stuck with me during the journey. I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Light filtered through the curtains, casting the bedroom in a warm, buttery glow.  The house was still and silent as it can only be at dawn but the moment the sunlight leaked across the bed, Dean Winchester moaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow.  His pillow that smelled like Cas.  The _whole bed_ smelled like Cas.  And as Dean rolled and he felt the warm, heavy weight of an arm around his waist, he remembered why.

He didn’t think that he’d ever get used to waking up to Cas in his bed.  Even after a week straight of Cas sleeping over, well… Dean didn’t think it was the sort of thing a guy could ever get used to.  He was warm and comfortable here, and he felt _safe,_ despite the turmoil that he still felt over his last case.

Cas had stayed with him since then, so that they could help each other to deal with what had happened.  Cas still went to the coffee shop every day to work, and to care for Nox, who curled up in Dean’s lap when Dean stopped by _Delecto_ nowadays.  Dean figured it was a good thing that the cat liked him, and Dean just made sure to pop an allergy pill before he dug his fingers into Nox’s soft fur.

Now, though, it was still early, and Andy was on first shift at the coffee shop, so that meant that Cas didn’t have anywhere he needed to be.

Dean rolled over and nuzzled his nose against the warm, pale skin of Cas’s neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent.  He pressed light kisses against his throat and collarbone, nibbling and licking light enough to tease.  Under his ministrations, Cas huffed out a breath and stretched, blue eyes opening lazily to peer at Dean.  “Dean,” he murmured, voice rough from sleep, “what are you doing?”

Dean smiled against Cas’s skin.  “Waking you up.  Is it working?”

“Mmm…yes, but,” Cas’s words cut off with a gasp when Dean lowered his head to flick his tongue lightly over Cas’s dusky, bare nipple.  “Dean….” He breathed.

“Want me to stop?” 

“No.”  Cas bit his lip.  “Please, don’t.”

Dean had never had sex with a man before Cas, but he’d been dreaming of it for months, and he’d wanted it _so badly_ that when the moment finally came, Dean hadn’t even been nervous.  It wasn’t like Dean was with a stranger.  He was with _Cas,_ one of his best friends, a man that he trusted…a man who already felt like family.

Dean didn’t hesitate now, either, as he pushed the sheets down and trailed his fingers over the flat planes of Cas’s belly, teasing lightly against the dark trail of hair below his navel.  Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips against Cas’s, savoring the gasp he elicited from the other man as his hand skimmed over Cas’s half-hard cock.  “What time do you have to be in to work?”  Dean whispered before he nipped at Cas’s lips.

“Not—not for a few hours.”

“Good.”  Dean flicked his tongue against Cas’s pink, slightly-chapped lips, grinning when Cas moaned.  Dean lazily licked his way inside Cas’s mouth, their tongues and lips pressing together deliciously just as Dean wrapped his hand around Cas’s cock and he gave it a long, smooth stroke.

“Oh God,” Cas moaned, throwing his head back to bare his throat further.  “ _Dean.”_ His fingers scrabbled for a moment before he tangled them in Dean’s hair to hold him close.  He twisted, tugged hard when Dean sped up his movements.  “Dean,” Cas panted, “is everything still…nnng…still…unplugged?”

Dean shifted to press against Cas’s side, so that his own growing erection could get some friction while he continued to stroke Cas, his hand gliding over soft skin, smoothed by beading precum.  Just the thought was enough to make Dean groan.  “Yeah, Cas, still unplugged.”  They’d discovered, nearly a week ago, that the power Cas inadvertently unleashed during an orgasm was enough to burst lightbulbs and blow fuses.

“Thank God.  Dean, please,” Cas begged.

“I got ya, Cas.”  Dean murmured, his hand speeding up in the same moment he ground his own hardened cock against Cas’s hip. “Mmm…feels good.”

“Dean.”  Just the sound of his name on Cas’s lips, panted, moaned, was enough to drive Dean wild.  His blood burned hot in his veins, and he rubbed harder against Cas’s side, his free hand gripping tight to his arm.  “ _Dean_.”

“ _Cas…._ ”  Dean synched his hips with his hand, and brought them both close to the edge of orgasm—his hand was slick now, and Cas’s hips jerked with each stroke.  He tugged at Dean’s hair harder, fingers curled against his scalp, urging him on.  It felt _so good,_ touching Cas this way, but it wasn’t enough, it was never enough.  Dean’s hips stuttered and he moaned.  He felt it coming, a tight, hot, tidal wave of pleasure… then Cas cried out and hot wetness spilled over Dean’s hand.  It was too much.  Dean’s vision whited out and his mouth dropped open in a silent shout as his own orgasm ripped through him, pulsing, wrecking him.

For a while, all they could do was heave ragged breaths and ride the waves of pleasure that flowed through them, carrying them away from themselves, but then slowly, slowly…bringing them back to their bodies, back to the bed where they lay tangled together. 

When Dean’s heart had settled into a normal rhythm, and his head had cleared, he cast a glance around his bedroom and noticed that everything except the bed floated anywhere from a couple inches to a few feet off the floor.  “Uh…Cas,”  Dean mumbled, poking the other man in the ribs.

“Hmmm?”

“Look.”

Cas turned sleepy, sated eyes to the side, but when he noticed what he’d done, he bolted up—and everything came crashing down.  “Shit!”  He cursed, turning back to Dean with worried eyes.  “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean tugged him back down and smoothed his frown away with another kiss.  “Don’t worry about it, Cas.”  Dean murmured against his mouth.  “We’ll work it out.”

 

 

 

 

 

Bobby called just after ten to ask Dean to come in to the office.  Now Dean and Cas were freshly showered and Dean pressed a gentle kiss to Cas’s mouth before he left for the shop. 

Dean took his time getting ready, pulling on a Henley and jeans, with his boots, and lacing them meticulously.  It felt strange to go in to the office without his uniform, or his gun, which he wasn’t technically supposed to carry while he was still under investigation.  Still, it would be good to go in and see the crew—Bobby, Garth, and Becky.  It had only been about a week or so, but already it felt too long.  Dean had enjoyed his time with Cas, but he was getting antsy without work.  Dean belonged patrolling his town, keeping it safe.  He really hoped this meeting would put the incubus case to rest.

 

 

 

Becky screeched and dashed into Dean’s arms when he walked into the office, shouting “Oh my God, Dean, you’re back!  We all missed you so much!”

Dean chuckled and hugged her back.  “Thanks, Becky.  Bobby in?”

Becky pulled away, her face shifting from ecstatic to serious in an instant.  “Yeah, he’s in his office.  Said he’d be waiting for you.”

“Alright.”  Dean strode toward his boss’s office, his hands just a bit sweaty from nerves.  He only had to knock once against the office door before Bobby barked for him to come in.

As Dean pushed the door open, Bobby waved a hand at the chair on the other side of his desk and said “It’s good to see you, boy.  Take a seat.”

Dean folded his hands together and sat forward, unable to relax.  “What’s this about, Bobby?”

Bobby frowned at him.  “Straight to the point, then.  Alright.”  He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his scruffy beard.  “Investigation’s over.  It was determined that you acted out of a desire to protect yourself and Castiel Novak both when you shot the incubus in your home.  While the death is still regretful, it’s been marked as a justified casualty.  You’ve been cleared to return to duty.”

Dean shifted in the chair, a cautious smile dying on his lips.  “That’s good news, right?”  Bobby nodded.  “So why the grim look?”

Bobby huffed and sat back.  “During the investigation, the County officials noticed that our number of Supernatural cases increased exponentially in the last year.”

Dean frowned.  “So what?”

Bobby frowned right back.  “Don’t get your panties in a twist, boy.  We both know why our numbers suddenly jumped, but the County boys don’t.  I didn’t tell them anything about Cas.”

Dean allowed himself to exhale, and realized he’d made his hands into fists.  He relaxed them.  “So, then… what’s the big deal?”

“Well, they decided that it’s too much for you to handle alone, now, and instead of allowing us to train a new deputy on Supernatural procedures, they’ve decided to uh… send us a specialist.”

“A specialist.”  Dean deadpanned.  “What the hell does that mean, Bobby?”

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head.  “It means you’ve got a new partner.”

Dean leapt to his feet, suddenly angry.  “Hell no.  I don’t need a partner, Bobby.  Never had one before, don’t need one now.”

Bobby shrugged.  “It’s out of my hands now, boy.”  Then, just because it was Dean’s luck, another knock sounded on Bobby’s door.  Bobby smirked.  “That’s him now, I figure.”  Then he called “Come in!”

A tall bear of a man strode in, a swagger in his step.  He cast Dean a glance before nodding his head at Bobby and coming to stand at a military rest in front of the desk, hands folded behind his back.  “Benny Lafitte reporting for duty, sir.”

Bobby eyed the other man for a moment before he motioned toward Dean and said “Lafitte, this is Dean Winchester, your new partner.”

Benny turned then, and offered Dean his hand for a shake.  Dean reached for his hand, but then Benny smiled, and Dean caught the quick flash of sharp teeth, and he froze.  “You’re a vampire.”

Benny shrugged.  “I am.”

Dean snorted and took the man’s hand in his own anyways.  “Specialist, huh?”

Benny’s smile turned into a wry smirk.  “Of a kind.”

“Well, this oughta be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends Willowsbend, but DON'T PANIC! I'm keeping the 'verse open for short fics and timestamps, because I love the world I created here, and I'm not SO EVIL that I'd end it that way & leave you hanging. Also, feel free to submit requests for specific things you'd like to see, and I'll see what I can do :) Remember, comments are love!
> 
> You can find me at my tumblr: http://realhunterswearplaid.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> If you really enjoyed, you could decide to buy me a coffee here: http://ko-fi.com/A3479Y5


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